You've Got a Long Way to Go
by Chaotic Lullaby
Summary: When did Roy and Riza first meet? What role does Riza play in Roy's childhood dream of becoming a great alchemist? Preanime with manga elements, Royai. Starts with Roy and Riza as kids. XD
1. Girl With A Slingshot, Boy With A Dream

_AUTHOR'S NOTES: This fic contains elements from the manga, starting from chapter 58, but is basically anime-verse._

_---_

_Central Park _

_Amestris, 1896_

The sun shone brightly on the vast verdant expanse that was Central Park in Amestris. It was early in the afternoon, and people were scattered all around the park, engaged in all sorts of entertaining activities such as feeding the gluttonous ducks in the pond, walking dogs, watching the birds soaring overhead, flying kites – after all, there was a bit of wind in the air – and picnicking. Some just chose to take leisurely walks, lie on the grass and stare up at the blue sky, or just sit down on a bench with a good book or something else, should one not be interested in reading.

There was a particular wooden bench underneath a shady apple tree that was occupied by a young girl who looked no older than ten, but no younger than six or seven. Her blond hair was cropped, cut short as a boy's, and some of it flopped over one of her reddish-brown eyes. She was even dressed like a boy, wearing a dark blue vest over a red and white striped shirt, blue shorts that stopped at her knees and black shoes that looked more like boots than shoes. Her hands were busy tinkering with a crude Y-shaped branch and a length of rubber and she was hunched over her work, her eyes squinted in concentration. A small pile of stones occupied the spot beside her.

So engrossed was she in whatever she was doing that she never noticed a group of much older boys, probably much closer to adolescence than she was, sidle up in front of her, sneering and guffawing.

"Hey, isn't a girl like you supposed to be playing with dolls and stuffed animals?"

"Yeah, do you really think you can pass for a boy like that? 'Cause you can't."

The girl barely glanced up, and went on with trying to attach each end of the rubber to the two ends of the Y. But she did mutter something so softly that the boys leaned in to listen.

"Leave me alone. I'm busy."

The tallest among the gang, who wore a black cap that probably denoted that he was the leader, or at least the oldest or the most street-smart, reached out to grab the girl's things, but she was quicker, stuffing everything into her pocket, including her stones, and jumping onto her feet. She stared up at the guys, showing no fear, despite them towering over her.

"I know who she is!" he declared, pointing a finger at her. "She's the kid of that poor, deranged alchemist who lives next door to us! Say, are you gonna call your daddy and tell him some big mean boys are bothering you? See? You can't pass for a boy."

"Who ever said I was going to call my father? And don't you call him deranged, he knows a lot more than you ever will, Brad," was the reply. The girl barely moved a muscle, but one of her hands groped for her branch. "And why would I want to be a boy?"

Brad bent over slightly so he was eye-to-eye with the girl.

"So what are you gonna do now, eh?" His cronies stood behind him, cackling and talking excitedly among themselves, throwing the girl a few dirty looks here and there, which she ignored.

"Hey! Leave her alone!"

A new voice cut through the cool air, and the boys craned their necks, following the sound. There was another boy, around ten, and he was only an inch shorter than the shortest in the gang. This new arrival had black hair that the wind had already slightly messed up, very dark blue eyes that glittered with a sense of purpose, and wore a collared, long-sleeved plain white shirt over a pair of black trousers. He had his hands on his waist, and the girl thought she caught a glimpse of something between his fingers – was it chalk?

"This ain't any of your business, Mustang," growled a blond boy who probably weighed more than the boy he called Mustang and the girl put together.

"Yeah, leave us alone," Brad chimed in, stepping up to face him. The others accompanied him like the huge bunch of bodyguards they were. "What could you possibly want with this little brat?"

"You should always be nice to girls. Didn't your dads teach you that?" the black-haired boy pressed on.

"Are you trying to scare us, Mustang?" asked the blonde, whose name was Lee. "What'cha gonna do, call _your_ dad, just 'cause he's a general in the military?"

Mustang shook his head defiantly and crouched down on the grass. He raised his right hand – which really was clutching a piece of chalk – and drew two circles on the ground, starting with one circle, a triangle inscribed in it, another triangle over the first, albeit smaller and inverted, and finished off with another smaller circle inside the innermost triangle.

"A transmutation circle," whispered the girl as she took this time to tighten the rubber on her branch.

"What's that?" drawled a mousy-haired boy with watery, gray eyes, pointing scornfully at the white marks striking through the green.

"You'll see," said Mustang confidently, placing his hands on the circle and wearing a huge smirk that rivaled those of Brad and his gang. It started to glow with scintillating light that blinded everyone watching him, and something seemed to grow out of the circle, dazzling as the light that streamed from the array. The thing shuddered slightly as it grew till it was only an inch or so under the crouching boy's chin. When everything cleared, the circle had given birth to the small, slightly lopsided cannon made of dirt and rock that was now pointing straight at the other boys.

"Are we supposed to be scared of _that_ thing?" Lee joked, jabbing another comrade in the ribs and laughing. "Look at it, Frank, isn't it _cute_?"

Brad raised an eyebrow. "Bet I could turn that toy into dust faster than you can make it."

"No way!" Mustang kept his hands on the circle that was still intact despite the cannon protruding from it, and the cannon shuddered, suddenly emitting a spray of water that drenched them from head to foot, even bringing along some bits of grass and mud. Unfortunately, it was nothing more than just a little shower, and it ended in a few seconds. The gang was wet and a bit dirty, some of them even whining about it, but they started laughing again in no time.

"It takes more than just a bit of water and mud to scare us. Try again, kid," taunted Brad. He swung his right foot back, and gave the cannon a good kick, demolishing about half of it. Mustang leapt aside and avoided getting hit by the foot or the dirt that went flying, but his creation was now a useless pile of rubble. Still, he stood tall and knotted his hands into fists shaking both with frustration and anger.

"I can beat you, even without alchemy."

"I dare you to," yawned Brad, adjusting the cap on his head and glaring down at the younger boy with his piercing, emerald-green stare. But before either he or Mustang could make a move, Brad yelped, feeling his head and screwing up his face in pain and infuriation. At his feet was a good-sized dirt clod, cracked in half. "Ouch! Which one of you wise guys did that?!"

Lee shrugged, lifting his broad shoulders. "Not me, boss." The rest of the gang echoed his answer. Suddenly, they all threw their hands over their heads as a couple of dirt clods swooped down on them, this time striking Lee and Frank.

"Hey!"

"That wasn't funny!"

It didn't get any funnier when a real stone missed Brad by an inch, Lee by half, and Frank by even less, plopping to the ground. Mustang stepped back, and saw that the following dirt clods and stones were only targeting the gang. Boys howled and whined as they got hit, some of them fleeing till only Brad and Lee remained. A few more projectiles rained down on them, and they winced as they made helmets out of their own hands.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I dunno, let's just get out of here before our skulls crack open! Ow! Ow!" Brad groaned as two small stones landed on his head. Even though his cap absorbed some of the impact, and one of the stones simply gave him a sore finger, they still hurt. "This isn't over, Mustang!" he bellowed as he and Lee hightailed it after their friends. Mustang watched in amusement as they ran, but sighed as he glanced down at his destroyed cannon.

"That was a nice bit of alchemy, but it was useless."

"Who're you callin' useless – "

Mustang blinked and saw the girl walking up to him, clutching a slingshot in one hand and a dirt clod in the other. She smiled at him, but her smile flickered and changed into what looked like an imperious expression, as though she were his older sister and he had done something she didn't particularly like, which was saying something, as it was pretty obvious that she was younger than he.

"If I hadn't fixed my slingshot in time, you would have been finished," she said matter-of-factly.

"Don't you think you should be thanking me for saving your skin – me, Roy Mustang, who will one day become the greatest, best, most powerful alchemist in the world?" he asked, smirking.

"I saved my own skin," answered the girl, throwing the dirt clod at the remains of Mustang's cannon. The clod hit its target, and everything fell apart, much to his chagrin. Then again, Brad had given it a good kick earlier anyway. "Brad and his stupid gang were too stupid to see me firing at them. Okay, so maybe you were the distraction, that's it."

The boy bristled at this statement. "Me – a distraction?! I'm not just a distraction…I still helped you get rid of them!"

"Guess you and your alchemy were of some use after all. Anyway, Brad was right. That was really only a little toy you made out of alchemy. You've got a long way to go if you want to be a _real_ alchemist…Roy, is it?"

"The other kids usually just call me Mustang," he said with a shrug. "But fine, I guess you can call me Roy, if you really want to. What's your name?"

"You can call me Riza," she said, pocketing her slingshot. "Anyway, I have to get going. My father wants me home now."

"I can take you home. Where do you live?"

"I can go home on my own. I'm not some lost little kitten – I know the way."

"Isn't it too early?" Mustang glanced up at the sky. "The sun is up, the sky is blue…"

"And the only thing annoying me now is you," Riza finished for him.

"What if Brad and the other dummies show up again? Who'll protect you then…Riza?" he pressed on, obviously undaunted by the sharp tongue she had just unsheathed.

She turned her back on him and started walking away. But before that, she glanced behind her and said, "I can take care of myself. Besides, like I said, you still need more practice with your alchemy. I've seen better transmutations than that. Like I said, you've still got a long way to go before becoming a great alchemist. You've got to be able to do more than just tiny water cannons like that."

"Maybe water isn't my element," said the boy, scratching his head and brushing away some of his bangs. "What about fire – do you think I could use alchemy to control fire?" He ran over to her side.

"People who play with fire usually end up getting burned," Riza recited, as though admonishing him. "I wouldn't recommend it. I have to go. Don't you also have some place to go?"

Mustang shook his head. "Not really…my dad's still busy with work, since he's a major general in the military and all, and my mom works at a restaurant. They let me go to the park on my own, since I know where it is, and so long as I come home before dinner."

Riza started walking even faster. "Look, I'm sorry, but I really have to go." This time, she sounded a lot more serious. "But I bet you'll find other things to do besides talk to me."

"Wait…before you go, I want to tell you something."

With a sigh, she slowed down and briefly faced Mustang, but kept on going. "What?" she asked impatiently. "Shouldn't you have asked me that earlier?"

He halted in his tracks and watched her breeze past him. The boy knotted his hands and suddenly called out something that made Riza freeze instantly.

"I…I think you're cute. I mean, how you shot those freaks and sent them running. I've never seen a girl like you that good with a slingshot. That was something."

Riza whipped around and stared at him. For a while, all the two children did was stare at each other, even as the wind blew past them, lifting the golden bangs that fell over one of her eyes and somewhat lifting the rubber sling that stuck out from her pocket. Then the air moved on to Mustang, sweeping his dark fringe away from his face and revealing his onyx gaze, seemingly boring into her. He flattened his hair as the wind lifted it, but never took his eyes off Riza, whose skeptical look softened into a gentle smile. For some reason, the boy thought it suited her more.

"T – Thank you…I guess," she answered shyly, feeling her cheeks burn as she blushed. Then just as quickly as the blush had crept onto her face, she turned around and kept on walking. _No other kid ever said I was cute…nah, maybe Mustang just says it to all the girls he meets. He's probably said it to every other girl besides me…_

Still, a part of her insisted that even if that may have been true, it was still a nice thing to say, especially coming from a boy with huge ambitions like becoming the greatest alchemist in the world.

And as she stepped farther and farther away, Mustang continued to stand there, watching her – her short hair gently rippling in the breeze, her boyish outfit, how she put one foot ahead of the other, how her slingshot stuck out from her shorts pocket, how she had looked at him so intently with those eyes of hers, more red than brown, how she could actually_ use_ a slingshot…

He dug his hand into his pocket and found the piece of chalk he had used to draw the transmutation circle. It left a few powdery white stains on his hands, but he couldn't care less – alchemists had more important things to worry about than chalky fingers.

"You're right…I've got a long way to go before I become a great alchemist," Mustang mused to himself. _But since you seem to know something or other about alchemy, maybe you could help me?_

Chuckling, he kept his chalk again and looked up at the grassy fields before him, punctuated by trees, flowering bushes, and other hallmarks of a park. Riza was completely out of sight now, and he felt a twinge of disappointment.

_Eh, how can a cute little girl like her help me become a great alchemist? Sure, she's good with a slingshot…and she _is_ cute…_

Mustang shrugged and decided to leave as well. Maybe he could just go home early and find those old alchemy books again…he _did_ need practice.

He _did_ have a long way to go, even if he already started teaching himself alchemy a few years ago.


	2. Introduction to Alchemy

_AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, from this point on I'll start calling Roy…well, Roy. I find it rather awkward to refer to him as "Mustang" when I've always referred to him as "Roy" in all my other fanfics._

_Arthur, Olivia, Regine, Victoria, Elizabeth and Mr. Jonah are all my original characters, and mine alone. _

_Now let's move on. XD_

_---_

The wind didn't get any stronger, but it did make Roy utterly thankful for his long-sleeved shirt and long pants. Now out of the park, he walked down the streets of Central Amestris, arms folded across his chest, and frowning slightly as the wind decided to toy with his hair again, just as it always did – but then again, it didn't matter, as Roy stopped in front of a glass display to glance at his reflection and saw that even though his hair was slightly tousled, it still looked good. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Riza said anything about it, and grinned. His reflection grinned back.

But something else caught his eye and made him grin – the books behind the window. Most of them were thick novels and probably also extremely long stories he'd be too lazy to read, but there was one in the middle, with glistening, embossed letters spelling out _Advanced Alchemy: What You Really Can and Can't Do With It_.

A man, most probably the shopkeeper, hobbled behind the display, leaning on his cane. He adjusted the pince-nez on his nose and squinted at the boy outside, smiling widely and thoughtfully running a hand through his thin mop of gray hair before making a gesture for him to come in. Roy was only too eager to do so, and he quickly ran to the door and shoved it open. The breeze billowed inside with him, but he shut the door right after, and let out a satisfied sigh.

The bookstore was warm, not to mention also stocked with lots and lots of books – especially heavy tomes about alchemy.

"You must be Arthur Mustang's son – Roy, is it? Forgive me; my memory just isn't what it used to be." The man waved casually and walked towards him, patting his young patron on the shoulder. "Feel like warming up? I've got some tea and I've already got the fireplace ready in the back…"

Roy nodded. "Good afternoon, Mr. Jonah. No thanks…I'm all right. I was only looking at that new alchemy book you've got in the window." He shoved his hands into his pockets, and felt his small stick of chalk in one of them.

"Ah!" said Mr. Jonah, a much wider smile crossing his face. "That book on advanced alchemy? It came in only yesterday, and there are only three copies in this shop, if I'm not mistaken Heh, what would a little boy like you want with such a big volume like that?"

"You know I've been learning alchemy," was the reply. Roy headed for the nearest bookcase, and began to scan the spines for some other titles. "How much do I have to save up for it?"

The shopkeeper suddenly looked more serious. "Oh…you _want _to buyit? Tell me, boy, how long have you been studying alchemy?"

He blinked his squinty, greenish-brown eyes several times behind his pince-nez in surprise and awe when the boy answered, "Since I was…uh, around six or seven."

"My word, at that age, I didn't know how to read yet!" laughed Mr. Jonah. "Listen, come by the fire. Business has been slow these days; would you do an old man a favor and tell me a story? I've always wondered how Arthur's only son got into alchemy; much less at such a young age…maybe you might want some tea?"

Roy shook his head. "Maybe I could sit by your fireplace if it's not too much trouble…it's been getting pretty cold these days."

"But of course! I _implore_ you to warm yourself up, my dear boy!"

---

Indeed, Roy's interest in alchemy began at an early age – actually, it started much earlier than what he had told Mr. Jonah. It had all began one rainy day at the Mustangs' mansion, located just at the outskirts of Central Amestris, six years before.

Roy lived with his parents, Major General Arthur Mustang, his father, his mother Olivia, and his three older sisters, Regine, Victoria and Elizabeth, the latter two of which were identical twins. Regine was ten years older than Roy, and Victoria and Elizabeth were six years older than their brother. On that day, the four children were at home with their father, while Olivia worked overtime at the restaurant she owned, which was close to Central Headquarters. Normally, Arthur would be working as well, but it was his day off, and he wanted to spend it at home.

While Regine practiced her own composition on the grand piano in the living room, Victoria wrote a letter to a friend in Western Amestris and Elizabeth buried her nose in a history book in the library. They were joined soon after by their father, who was carrying a yawning four-year-old Roy on his shoulders.

"Hey, Dad," said Vicky, folding up the letter she had just finished. "I was writing to Aaron. You know him, right?" She blushed a bit, and pushed back her wavy, chestnut-brown hair.

"I'm almost done with this book you gave me for my tenth birthday," said Lizzie, barely looking up.

"That's nice," Arthur replied. "Anyhow, Roy just woke up from his nap and wanted to go out and play…but yeah, I can't risk him getting out in this rain after he got over his little cold."

"I'm fine," whined the boy as Arthur placed him on the scarlet carpet, next to the table two of his sisters occupied. "I won't get sick again, I promise. Please, Dad? It gets boring in here when Vicky and Lizzie are too busy to play with me."

Vicky turned her nose up in the air in scorn. "Hmph, I really am busy." She reached out for an envelope and started putting her letter inside. "Dang, it won't fit. Pass me the scissors, Liz."

"No way, get them yourself," mumbled Lizzie. "Just fold the letter again."

"I already folded it too many times – what if Aaron won't read my letter 'cause he can't read it 'cause of too many folds? That happens, and sometimes too much folding makes the ink in this pen run!"

"Not my problem. Not my fault you _like _like him." Using a carnation hair ribbon as a bookmark, Elizabeth put her book aside to glare at her twin.

"I_ like_ like Aaron, Liz?! No, I don't!" Unfortunately, Vicky's burning cheeks betrayed her.

"Oh yeah? Then why is your face all red, like that?"

"It's really cold! I mean, it's raining and all…"

Arthur sighed, shaking his head and ruffling some of his salt-and-pepper hair. "_Girls_," he said warningly, narrowly preventing another row from sparking between the two of them. He looked down at Roy, who was sitting idly on the carpet, resisting the urge to start pulling a stray thread. The boy glanced back at him, his face a mask of utter tedium. "Okay, Roy, what do you want to do today?"

"I want to play outside," was the stubborn reply.

"I told you, you can't play outside. What about…a story? I'll read you a story, would you like that? And I'll also teach you more words!"

"Yes!" Roy stood up and looked deep into his father's serene blue-green eyes. "I want that story with the two Li – Lior – Liorites who go on a trip and get mistaken for the prince and princess of Xing!"

The major general chuckled as he headed for the nearest bookcase in the Mustangs' colossal treasury of reading material, muttering as he mouthed every title he read on every spine of every book. Then he whispered, "Ah, here it is!" and shot out one large, callused hand to pry the chosen volume from the shelf. In one swift move, he got it out, but another fell with a muffled _thump_, narrowly missing his fuzzy, navy slipper-clad toes. "Whoops."

Toddling over to his father, Roy reached out and tugged at the book, pulling it closer to him and squinting at the cover, his forehead creased in concentration. He pointed to a word as he crouched beside the book and slowly sounded the word out to himself, as he had only very recently learned how to read.

"A…al…alch….alchemy," he said out loud. "Something…to alchemy…I don't know what the first word is."

"Good job," said Arthur, bending over to pick up the fallen book. "Actually, the title is _Introduction to Alchemy_. Now, I'll just put this back into the shelf…"

"No, wait!"

Arthur stopped just as he was about to insert _Introduction to Alchemy_ into the shelf. "Why?"

"What's alchemy?" asked Roy, standing up again. Already his father could see the flames of curiosity burning in the little boy's gaze. "What's that book about?"

"Alchemy…well, it's a kind of science, something that can be used for many things. It can create, but it can also destroy. Alchemy is capable of fixing…and breaking. But it's more than just controlling the energy all around us to our own liking…" The Major General sighed and chuckled to himself, looking down at the two books he held in his hands. "Oh, who am I kidding, I don't know anything about alchemy, for the simple reason I never got into it."

"Then what was that alchemy book doing in our shelves?" asked Lizzie, turning to face him.

Arthur shrugged. "Many of these books have been handed down from generation to generation…some of them are actually older than I am. Others have been given to us as gifts or tokens of appreciation, or simply left with us. But this _Introduction to Alchemy _probably used to belong to your Uncle Julius, who, if I'm not mistaken, passed away just before your mother gave birth to Roy. I guess when we took the books he had left, as per his request, he also gave us his alchemy books. Of course, I couldn't bear to sell them, so I kept them around just in case they were needed."

"But Uncle Julius wasn't an alchemist, I remember him saying that to me when I was little," put in Vicky. "How would he have alchemy books?"

"I guess he probably got them from someone else who _was_ an alchemist," said her father thoughtfully. "Anyhow, I did try a bit of alchemy myself, when I was alone in the library one night doing some paperwork…"

"What happened?" asked Roy excitedly. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," laughed Arthur, putting the two books down on the nearer of two polished mahogany table. "I couldn't pull it off. There's more to alchemy than just drawing a circle and activating it, kids. Anyhow, I don't think I'd like to be an alchemist – not that I have anything against it, but it's just not my style – yes, alchemy isn't easy, not even for grown-ups – "

His voice trailed off when he heard his son speak up again, this time saying the last string of words Arthur expected to hear, much, much less from a four-year-old boy.

"Can we read it, Dad?"

The last syllable hung in the air as Arthur fell silent, and Vicky and Lizzie did the same, trading several unfathomable looks with each other. Roy merely stood there in front of them, an inquisitive, anticipating expression spreading across his face, and watched his father and sisters avidly, waiting for them to say or do anything.

It felt like forever and a day had passed when Arthur finally spoke up. "Well…this book isn't like your storybooks, or those fairy tales you've heard from your mother and I. There are a lot of things in here that you won't be able to understand, especially since you've only learned how to read. Why don't we start with something easy, like what you chose awhile ago, the story of the Liorites in Xing?"

"I'll try to understand," said Roy mulishly. "Please, Dad? Please?"

His onyx eyes were wide, filled with a strange mix of excitement and curiosity, as they stared intently at Arthur, who already laid a hand on the storybook. Vicky and Lizzie also surveyed them intently, no longer writing letters (as Vicky was already finished and the letter was ready for mailing) or reading books, eager to know their father's response. Arthur briefly buried his forehead in his free hand, probably deep in thought. But after what felt like another eternity, he took the thinner book and ferried it back to its respective place in the shelves.

"Dad – "

"Are you – "

Arthur himself was just as surprised at his reaction as the twins were. He sighed, wearing a small smile as he walked back to the table that held _Introduction to Alchemy_. "You got me there…I just can't resist that look. Well…let me go get the dictionary, in case I run into some words _I_ don't know, and we can start. Just tell me to stop when things start getting too hard, all right? And if you need me to slow down – "

"I'll be fine, Dad, I promise."

And once again, he could see that determination, that thirst for knowledge, within the depths of those dark, dark blue irises.

---

As the Major General recited the history and the first laws of alchemy, occasionally checking the dictionary and explaining some of the bigger words to his son, he patiently waited for any signs of boredom, such as yawning, fidgeting, or simply whining. But strangely, Roy remained attentive, taking in every word and listening intently, even though some things were just too complex for him to comprehend fully at that age. He didn't even notice his sisters leave – Vicky to mail her letter, and Lizzie to practice with her cello.

"So when you want to perform alchemy, first you have to draw a circle, and then you do whatever you want to do with alchemy?"

"Pretty much, but there's more to it than just that. Plus, it takes years for anyone to become an accomplished alchemist, even if you start early – and no, Roy, you're way too young to start. Perhaps when you're older, I can help you find the rest of the alchemy books in our library."

"Arthur, what are you talking about?"

Judging from where the mellow soprano voice came from, his wife was standing behind him, and she smiled brightly as Arthur stood up and kissed her gently on her cold, slightly damp cheek.

"I'm sorry I came home late. It's the rain," sighed Olivia. "So, what have you been reading our son this time?"

"Alchemy!" crowed Roy, as his mother lifted him up and kissed him on the forehead.

"Alchemy?" echoed Olivia, slowly placing the boy back into his chair, like a rather fragile porcelain doll. "Arthur…I know our son is very intelligent for his age, but don't you think he's a bit too young for _alchemy_?"

"Listen…Roy, I can't read you everything in this book," said the Major General. "What I've been reading to you were the easiest parts, and if I keep on going, you'll just get too bored, as the words and ideas in this book get harder as we go on."

His son pouted. "But I can understand _some _of it…like the circle and what alchemy can do and that if you want something, you have to give up something else for it…sort of…" He crinkled his forehead in concentration and shrugged.

"Yes, but that's not everything about alchemy. Like I told you, there's much, much more. You've got a long way to go before you become a great alchemist, Roy. But you don't have to rush things. You have a lot of time to learn everything else that you can't learn now. After all, even though you're a fast learner, I admit, you're still only four."

Roy opened his mouth to object, but shut it and finally conceded. "All right. But promise me that we'll finish the book sometime, okay?"

Arthur nodded. "All right, we have a deal. Now go over to your sister Regine. She's probably waiting to help you with your next piano piece. And I'd like to hear it, too, after dinner."

"Okay." He jumped off his chair and ran off. When the double doors of the Mustang library closed with a soft _bang_, Olivia turned to Arthur with a skeptical expression.

"I know, I know, I've got some explaining to do. It's actually quite a long story, Livie."

"Well, I've got time before I start making dinner, Arthur. Let's start off with how Roy knew about alchemy."

---

Two years passed after Roy got his first taste of alchemy. As with all little kids, he eventually forgot about learning alchemy as he got into what any boy his age would get into – he hung out with friends, played all sorts of games, got down and dirty and even in trouble, and continued to grow. His sisters often showed him off to their friends, especially when they asked him to play the piano for them – and eventually, the violin. For a while, talk about alchemy in the Mustang household simmered down for a long while, assuming that Roy lost interest in the subject.

But another boring day came around, and once again, Roy was spending it in their library. Except this time, he no longer needed his father to read books for him, but he would ask anyone around when he encountered more words he didn't know.

He walked through the towering bookshelves, scanning the titles for anything that would be of any interest to him. After all, the boy did like to read, but wasn't exactly a bibliophile, and there were still so many books that a child of his age would not be able to understand.

But suddenly, a spine embossed with fading gold letters caught his attention – and when he read the title, Roy knew that he found a book he would definitely be able to read.

_Introduction to Alchemy._

Plucking the volume carefully from the shelf and brushing a bit of dust off its cover, Roy carried it towards a table, opened it to the first page, and began to read, with only the flickering chandeliers, the quiescent shelves filled with books, the other table and chairs, the scarlet carpet bordered with gold thread and cursive M's, and the four walls for company. If he couldn't find anyone to bother with difficult words, he always had the enormous dictionary, perched on its own pedestal. Arthur had taught him how to use it a few weeks ago, in case nobody was around to help him with complicated vocabulary.

So absorbed was he in reading and drinking in as much knowledge as he could that when something crashed just outside the library, Roy almost fell off the chair in surprise. He quickly closed the book and darted outside, forgetting the house rule about putting books back where they belonged.

As he stepped outside, he was instantly met by a scream that rang in his ears.

"Great, now you broke Mom's really expensive vase! It was an old Ishbalan relic that her brother gave her and now it's gone!"

"_I_ broke it?"

"Yes, you did! Why do you always have to be running around all the time, Victoria Anne Mustang?"

"Just 'cause you're the oldest doesn't mean you have to pick on me all the time, Ginny!"

Roy blinked and stared at the broken shards of the vase. It used to be a beautiful thing – made of bluish-white porcelain with various scenes from ancient Ishbal painted on it with precise hands and striking colors, and even had gilded handles designed to look like rearing dragons. Unfortunately, there was almost nothing beautiful about the vase now, as it was all over the floor, being swept up by Victoria and her trusty broom into a dustpan Regine held.

"What are _you_ looking at?" the two girls chorused at the sight of their brother. Unbeknownst to them, he wasn't thinking of how much trouble they would be in when their mother found out about the mess, but how he could somehow put the vase back together…with alchemy.

"Do you have any chalk?" he asked meekly.

"Why would you need chalk at a time like this?" complained Regine. "We don't need chalk – we need a miracle! This vase is irreplaceable! Or at least, that's what Mom says."

Roy sighed. "I'm gonna try fixing the vase!"

"How are you going to do that? There's gotta be a hundred pieces here!" groaned Victoria.

"I'll use alchemy!"

"You think just by holing yourself up in the library for an hour or so reading a book on alchemy would make you a great alchemist already? You're only _six_!" Regine glared and held his midnight blue eyes with her own furious, dark brown ones.

"Hey, look, that must be Mom and Dad's car!" Elizabeth's voice floated from the living room. Her siblings had no idea whether she knew about the broken vase or not, but right now, there was no time to think about that. Before Regine could say anything more, Victoria ran off, her footsteps clapping hard on the polished wooden floor, and was back in a flash, heaving a bit and brushing away some of her brown hair from her face. In one hand she held a stick of chalk, which Roy grabbed as fast as she had thrust it out to him.

Regine tapped her foot and declared in a domineering tone, "This better work, Roy, or else we're all dead."

"It will work, I promise!" he said, kneeling down on the floor and beginning to draw a circle. The chalk slid across the floor, leaving its powdery white trail and his sisters looked on in amazement and anxiety while the boy recalled the first transmutation circle he had seen in the book and the shapes within it. He drew it all, and barely noticed Elizabeth join them in watching him work.

"There, it's done. Vicky, put all the pieces in the middle of the circle."

The twin did as she was told; she gingerly dumped the pieces of the broken vase from the dustpan into the center and made sure none of them escaped the chalky boundaries. When that was done, she stepped back and waited with bated breath with the other girls. Roy sighed, gritted his teeth, and slammed his hands down on the outer marks, taking care not to accidentally touch any of the shards and cut his fingers.

Golden light burst forth, dazzling the four Mustang children. Elizabeth gasped and shut her eyes tight, Victoria did the same and gripped the hands of her sisters, while Regine squinted through the blaze briefly and saw Roy also step back from his array, shielding his face with his right arm. The shards were glowing too brightly for any of them to actually see what was happening, whether or not the vase was forming again. Through it all, they heard a door click open and someone call out, "We're home!"

"Is it over yet?" asked Regine.

"I don't know!" Roy answered. "I – "

But before he could say anything more, the light simmered down and everything returned to normal, except for the yellow spots that danced before the siblings' sight. At least now they could see what had happened to the vase…

"What happened?"

"I don't know!"

"Did you do everything right? Did you forget anything? You should've checked the book – "

"There was no time! I swear, I did it right!"

"What's going on?"

At the sound of Olivia's voice, all the children froze. Roy scrambled to his feet and stood up, while his sisters remained huddled not too far away. Victoria squeezed Regine's and Elizabeth's hands tight.

"What – did that use to be my vase?" asked Olivia, her face the epitome of utter shock. "What did you do to it? It was an irreplaceable Ishbalan relic!"

"I tried to fix it – " Roy started, but Regine cut him off.

"We accidentally broke it while you were gone," she said, crestfallen. The twins looked the same way. "We knew it meant so much to you, so – "

"I tried to fix it with alchemy," said Roy. "But…I guess…" He took a deep breath and glanced down at his shoes, extremely disappointed. "I guess it didn't work…" He sniffed, and his eyes began to water. The three girls swooped down on him instantly and started to comfort him, hugging and patting him on the head and shoulders.

"We're sorry," said Regine, speaking for her younger sisters and brother. "We promise we'll be careful next time."

At first, neither Arthur nor Olivia said anything. They traded a look, and exchanged a few more in silence, increasing the suspense. Olivia whispered something in Arthur's ear, and he nodded, but his expression was unfathomable.

Of course, sooner or later, that silence would have to be broken, like the vase.

"I'm just glad none of you were hurt when it broke," said their father, smiling slightly. "And you know, Roy, that's pretty good for your first try. Still, I know you've got a long way to go before can become a great alchemist, but that's a good start."

"In fact, I think this…_vase_…is still pretty," said Olivia, picking up whatever Roy had managed to create with alchemy and placing it on a nearby table. "I mean it. It may not be the same as before, but it's still beautiful. I think you will become a great alchemist when you grow up, Roy."

"It's all right," said Regine, agreeing with her mother. Victoria and Elizabeth nodded.

On the table, shining as the sunlight streamed through a window behind it and passed through some transparent lilac curtains, was a painted porcelain replica of a large plume of fire, touched here and there with a few golden bits. It somewhat resembled a porcelain bonfire, glistening brightly before its creator and his family.

That had been Roy's very first attempt at alchemy.


	3. Be Thou for the People

_AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yes, I made up Mr. Hawkeye's first name, and the name of his wife, some of their lives, and I don't know when or where or why she died. Eh, you know the drill._

_Mr. Jonah and the entire Mustang family (besides Roy, of course) are all my characters as well._

_The title of this chapter, and the concept of "Be Thou for the People" was inspired by episode 9, of the same title (at least, in the English dub). _

---

"So…my parents and my sisters actually ended up liking what I did with the broken vase, but Ginny and Vicky, after owning up to breaking it in the first place, got no dessert that night, if I remember. Lizzie and I felt sorry for them, but they took their punishment all right. At first I thought my mom and dad were only saying they thought the 'vase' was nice so it would make me happy, but eventually, I saw that they really meant it. Mom even showed it off to anyone who would visit us, saying that she had a six-year-old alchemist."

Roy couldn't help but grin, feeling proud of himself. He shifted around in the high-backed, maroon velvet armchair and watched the jumping sparks and dancing flames in the fireplace. The warm colors amazed him, the occasional popping noises were comforting in a strange way, and it was just so fascinating to see the fire sway about as it spread its heat for the two of them, like an invisible blanket. For a while, it was as though he were talking to the fire instead of Mr. Jonah.

"How's your alchemy these days now, Roy?" asked the shopkeeper, leaning back in his own chair and placing his bare feet on a footstool, sighing contentedly as the fire warmed his feet and eventually the rest of him.

"It's all right…sometimes I can make it work, sometimes I can't. Most of the time, I end up doing something like what I did with that vase when I was six. And I usually screw up more when creating things instead of just fixing them."

"Well…just keep working hard and soon you'll become a real alchemist, boy," said the bookstore owner, staring out into space and wiping his pince-nez on his worn brown vest over a green shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

Roy nodded. "Of course I'm working hard. That's why I want to buy that book on display…advanced alchemy. I don't think we have that at home."

"I wish I could sell it to you," answered Mr. Jonah, turning to gaze at him a bit sadly through his tiny round spectacles. "Unfortunately, that book is reserved for State Alchemists only. You know them, don't you? They're alchemists who serve the military, who are usually called in when all else fails, and even when conflicts can still be solved by more peaceful means. Sometimes they use their abilities to mow down hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people, all for the sake of the State."

"But they have pocket watches that can amplify alchemic reactions," added Roy thoughtfully. "My dad says so. And they have access to lots of information and books and other stuff nobody else can have…who knows? Maybe when I get really good at alchemy, _I _could become a State Alchemist! Then when I can get my hands on all that knowledge on alchemy…I could easily become the best, most famous and most powerful alchemist in the world! Then with alchemy, I can help make the world a better place!" His eyes glittered with exhilaration and his smile grew wider as his mind brimmed with thoughts of him reaching his goal.

Mr. Jonah gaped at him.

"You wouldn't want that life. You don't know what you're asking for. I highly doubt your father would want you to join the military that way. And these are things you're better off taking up with him, not an old shopkeeper like me," he said, massaging his wrinkled forehead. "Listen, I'm really sorry. I know you'd like that book very much. Perhaps it's just fate's way of saying that you aren't ready for it yet…still a long way to go before you are. You are ten, right? Now run along before your father starts calling in reinforcements to search for you. Tell him that I hope he's doing well, along with his family, which I'm sure they – and you – are."

"Okay." Roy stood up from the armchair and bowed before the old man. "Thanks for the fire. I'll be going home now."

"You sure you know how to get home?"

"Of course I can. I'm ten, right? Ten's a big number. Not as big as twenty, or sixteen, but pretty close…and soon, I'll even be eleven."

Mr. Jonah sighed, a mixture of nostalgia and satisfaction as he heard the pitter-patter of the boy's footsteps as he headed towards the exit and the clang of the bell as he opened the door and left. The man sighed, nodding towards the fire.

"So much like his father," he whispered to the crackling fire. "So very much…"

---

"Roy, honestly, no reading on the table," Olivia chastised her son. "You can read all you want later."

"Sorry," said Roy, scratching the back of his head sheepishly and standing up to return _One Hundred and One First Transmutations_ to the library – or at least, put it somewhere where none of its pages would be stained with potatoes, lamb chops in Olivia Mustang's famous sauce recipe, and stir-fried vegetables. He placed it on top of the piano in the living room and went back to the dining hall, where the family conversation was only beginning.

"So, how is Corporal Vermont doing, Regine? Has he been courting you?" asked Arthur casually, spearing a bit of asparagus with his fork.

The eldest Mustang sister nearly choked on a particularly huge portion of lamb, and quickly grabbed her glass. After a long drink of orange juice that washed the stubborn piece down, she took several deep breaths, patches of red flowering in her cheeks and even her ears. She tossed back her flowing, dark brown ponytail, which was the exact same color as her surprised eyes, and glanced away, preferring to focus on the starry night sky outside the nearest window. She bit her lip before whimpering, "_Dad_…"

Nobody saw Victoria discreetly poke Elizabeth in the arm. The two of them started to giggle.

"But Charles is good-looking…I think he likes you," Vicky pointed out. "Remember when Brigadier General Vermont came to visit and he brought his nephew Charles with him? He was always looking at you, Ginny…especially when you were practicing that piece by…"

"I think it was probably because I had a bad hair day that day," Regine retorted. "It was stupid of me to try to braid my hair when it would always escape from the braid anyway. So shut up, Vicky."

"I have to admit, she's right," said Elizabeth, shrugging and adjusting the lacy straps of her turquoise dress, which starkly contrasted with her twin's crimson outfit. "The corporal didn't look like he wanted to court you, Ginny, no offense. But I think you deserve better."

"None taken, and thanks, I don't think he's my type, anyway," said Regine, rolling her eyes. "I mean, all he does is talk and talk and talk about how _so_ many of his family members are military officers. As if his mother's cousin's nephew's brother counts…or his aunt's brother-in-law's…"

She never got to finish her diatribe, as Roy cut her off and asked loudly, "Dad, do you think I could become a State Alchemist?"

_Clink. _

Arthur suddenly dropped his knife on the floor. He bent over to pick it up, but when he looked up at Roy, the major general had a very serious, no-nonsense expression on his face, and if eyes were matches, his stern, blue-green ones would have burned anyone he stared at to a crisp. But he wasn't mad, not even the slightest bit agitated, but neither was he impressed. In fact, nobody could tell what he really felt when Roy brought up the subject of becoming a State Alchemist – not for the first time. Lizzie nudged Vicky, who raised an eyebrow in bewilderment in reply.

"Ever since I've told you about State Alchemists, you always ask me about them and whether you could be one of them," said Arthur frankly, wiping his knife with a napkin and looking at it instead of his son. "Why?"

"I don't know…it's just that…it sounds like I can not only become a great alchemist, but I can also use my alchemy to help others. According to _Introduction to Alchemy_, alchemists 'Be thou for the people'. Sure…I might have to fight in wars and such, but isn't that what everyone in the military does?"

The man finally gazed at Roy, as though watching him for any sudden movements. "Listen…this is not the time to discuss such matters. I think it's about time you and I had a little heart-to-heart."

After that, talk around the table simmered down drastically, and the sound of silverware and glass seemed amplified tenfold.

---

"If I remember correctly, you were only seven when you first found out about State Alchemists and what they do. I'm just going to reiterate what I've been telling you over and over again, and at the same time tell you things that you must know, now that you're older, and definitely a lot wiser – State Alchemists work for the military. They use their skills for that kind of job – and it's not a pretty sight to see them marching into battle. Usually, they aren't deployed into war till things get really bad for us, but many officers already place them on the front line as soon as possible. With their alchemic power, they can flatten a place as big as Central in a few minutes or even less and force the enemy to surrender. But to be part of that force, you must pass a rigorous test, and they only accept one or two candidates a year."

"That's what Mr. Jonah from the bookstore also tells me. But what's so bad about that?" asked Roy, tugging at a loose thread in his shirt sleeve. "Isn't that what the military does? And who cares about a test – "

Arthur leaned back in the sofa and placed an arm around his only son. By the light of the dimmed chandelier and the blazing fireplace, he seemed to age by several years. "Yes, but…the thing is…what you said before about 'alchemists being thou for the people' is true. Many people believe that alchemists who sign up for the military and allow their skills to be used for the military's profit are actually selling their souls for fame and prestige and are willing to be used as attack dogs – hence, 'dogs of the military' – of the State. You see, it is a very, very big thing when you pass the alchemy exam and receive the silver pocket watch that is every State Alchemist's symbol, not to mention an amplifier of alchemy."

"But doesn't the military also help people?"

"Yes…but not everyone. In every battle, there are sides to choose from, and in the end, there can only be one winner. You could say it's like your Equivalent Exchange, because there are no winners without losers in a war. I won't deny that as we have led Amestris to victory, there are also many lives we have taken in the process, but not by choice. That's military life for you – definitely not for the weak and fragile. If all this sickens you, then don't bother signing up."

"Then why did you become a soldier, Dad?" asked Roy, raising an eyebrow in slight confusion. "I mean, besides the fact that you're not weak and fragile, at least I think so…"

"I believe I have a duty to protect the country," said Arthur, his eyes misty with reminiscence. "As much as possible, we don't kill, but negotiate. We only bring out the heavy artillery when we have to, but sometimes, there are so many situations wherein we have to use force, and a lot of it. It's a dirty job, but some people have to do it. Even so, we have always been cursed by our countrymen for it, not just the State Alchemists."

The youngest Mustang nodded, letting it all sink in as he let himself sink into the sofa they were sitting in. He tugged at the collar of his white shirt and fidgeted underneath his father's arm.

"Still…I want to be able to help with alchemy, by joining the military," Roy insisted. "But I don't want to kill anyone…"

"Just remember the value of life and your values," said Arthur, glancing outside and listening to a slight drizzle begin tapping against the living room window. "Not that I'm discouraging you from becoming a State Alchemist; just don't forget what's right and wrong. It is a hard path, a much harder one than simply becoming an alchemist. You will encounter many forks in that road, and by then you will be old enough to make your own decisions."

The major general sniffed, and embraced Roy tightly. "You're growing up, son. I just want you to grow up knowing righteousness. And whenever I see you drawing an array, or attempting to create something with alchemy, or even just poring over all those books in our library, I know that your skills are growing with you. It seems like only yesterday I had to read that book to you – now you've practically touched every last volume on alchemy we have."

He paused and let go of him. "Which reminds me…you need a teacher, someone who has had experience in alchemy, who can help you. I was never much of an alchemist myself, and neither are your sisters, or your mother. I have been asking some of my friends who are also State Alchemists – and they could probably also explain the ins and outs of being one – but as much as they would love to teach you, they can't take you under their wings."

"A teacher?" echoed the boy. "But I can do alchemy fine on my own…"

"Well, that's true," said Arthur, looking at the ornate flame that was displayed on top of their fireplace – the shattered vase that Roy had inadvertently turned into a replica of fire. "But you still have a lot to learn, and you need a mentor who can help you understand the finer points…the more complicated turns of alchemy…luckily, I was able to talk to an old friend of mine who recommended a very prolific alchemist who lives not too far away. You will want to meet him, Roy. He's very, very good, and he will be of more help than me."

Roy blinked several times. "Really?"

"In fact, I'll tell him we'll be paying him a visit soon." Arthur patted his son's jet-black head and thought of the times when he also had black hair – not black streaked with gray and even touches of white. "Don't say you don't need a teacher; I had teachers too, when I was learning how to be a soldier. You know one of them very well…he retired from the military a few years ago and set up his own business, which also serves State Alchemists who need rare and intricate readings."

"_Mr. Jonah_ once taught you in the Military Institute of Amestris?"

"He used to be Lieutenant General Jonah…till he decided that his time in the force was up. Anyway, if you don't exactly like the alchemy teacher we've found for you, or if you don't get along," Arthur gave a short laugh, "we don't have to keep on hounding him. Yes, Mr. Jonah was the one who once knew Nicholas Hawkeye, and remembered the man. He even has a daughter, I've heard, so you'll probably make a new friend…"

For a moment, Roy thought of the girl he had met in the park. _She said her name was Riza…but she never said her last name, come to think of it…I'd like to be_ her_ friend, she's not like all those other girls who scream whenever they see an ant crawling up their arms and bother me to pick it off for them, and then when they're done they start clinging to me…and I bet she wouldn't force me to play the piano or the violin for her when I don't want to…_

"Roy?"

"Oh, sorry," said the boy, snapping out of his reverie. "What was that again, Dad?"

"It's nice that you're chasing after your own dreams," said Arthur, squeezing Roy's hand. "But know when to pause and take a breather. Don't forget everything I've told you about the military, State Alchemists in particular. There's nothing wrong with being one; but there will be when you sacrifice the wrong things for it. Never focus on such superficial things like fame, or power, for many State Alchemists and people in general have made that mistake and paid dearly for it.

"But no matter what happens, your mother, sisters and I will always be there to back you up, I promise. Make us proud." Arthur relinquished his grip on the young boy's hand and patted him on the back, beaming proudly.

"I will. When I get the hang of alchemy, I'm going to become a State Alchemist and really be an alchemist for the people."

But a sudden cracking noise caught Roy's attention, and he found himself staring at the fire, wondering what made those sounds, why it sounded like that and not some other sound, how something could be so beautiful and useful, and yet could become a deadly weapon in the hands of the skilled, capable of hurting, even killing…

---

Neither of them noticed a sixteen-year-old girl in a pale yellow nightgown and matching slippers peeking through the doorway that separated the living room from the hallway that led to the staircase, running her fingers through her loose, waist-length chestnut tresses. She twitched, narrowly stopping herself from jumping a mile and screaming, when someone's fingers clamped down – _hard_ – on her shoulder. Whipping around, she saw another brown-haired girl in a pink and periwinkle striped nightgown. The two of them stared into each other's blue-green eyes.

"Liz, you scared me."

"Is Roy in trouble?"

"No…but he says he wants to be a State Alchemist now."

"Why?"

"State Alchemists pass a really hard test to get into the army, right? Roy figures that when he gets really good at alchemy, he'll enter the military so he can help lots of people that way," whispered Vicky, taking a deep breath after saying all this.

Lizzie nodded placidly. "I see…" She let her voice fade away between the two of them, and for a while they stayed frozen and out of sight.

When Vicky opened her mouth to say something, her twin spoke first. "He's really serious about this, isn't he? I mean, with becoming an alchemist and all…"

"Yeah…c'mon, Liz, let's go back before Mom finds us eavesdropping again."

"We're technically not eavesdropping. We went downstairs because you forgot your hair ribbon and just happened to hear Dad and Roy talking."

"But Liz, I didn't leave my ribbon anywhere. And I was wearing a clip today, not a rib – oh." Vicky grinned and stifled a giggle when she saw her sister wink. "What the heck, let's just head upstairs. Still…I have to admit, I'm worried about our brother. I know he's smart for his age and knows what's right, but I hope he does stick to his agenda of sharing his alchemy with everyone. Not that I don't believe in him or anything…"

Lizzie put her finger on her lips and gripped Vicky's hand. "I know…me too. Let's go."

---

A considerable distance from the burgeoning Mustang mansion and its prosperous family was another house at the end of a lane filled with huge, old, withering buildings, some of which could barely pass as houses. Most of the gardens and yards surrounding the area were dry and almost devoid of life, save a few weeds and ancient, gnarled trees. The entire place was an eyesore, but many people still insisted on living there, especially the man who lived in the spacious yet disintegrating house several meters away from the his nearest neighbors, like a castaway on a deserted island in an endless, desolate sea.

Nicholas Hawkeye was an enigma. Some people would say he was a brilliant genius who worked wonders with alchemy. Others would disagree and declare that he was a lunatic slipping further and further into insanity. Still others would simply pity the man, who lost his wife, Perenelle, years ago, leaving him to raise their only daughter by himself. Everyone else thought some combination of the above, or all of it, applied to Mr. Hawkeye, as he was usually referred to.

After all, he _did_ have hawk-like eyes – piercing, stormy-gray ones that could bore into anyone to the point that he freaked people out, even though he wasn't staring at them. There was practically only one individual around who could survive his gaze…probably because she had lived with him all her life.

Now, inside the Hawkeye residence, the phone rang, its chime punctuated by unpleasant buzzing noises that told anyone who heard it that it needed to be fixed. A young girl wearing a forest-green shirt and khaki trousers instantly thrust out a small, delicate hand, the one not holding a slingshot, and picked up the receiver, all the while watching out for the slightly frayed wire and the peeling paint.

"Hello?"

"Are you Nicholas Hawkeye's daughter?"

"Yes, I am, sir. Do you wish to talk to him? Who is this?"

"This is Major General Arthur Mustang. Please put your father on the line, thank you very much."

"Okay, just a minute."

She set the receiver aside and walked briskly towards a small room not too far away. The door was ajar, but she knew better than to just barge in and interrupt whoever was working inside. Instead, the girl simply stuck her head in and said loudly, "Father, there's someone on the phone for you – his name is Major General Mustang."

Three out of the four walls of the room were filled with shelves, cupboards and closets, which in turn were filled with not only books, but also articles, papers, documents, photos, miscellaneous items, bottles of strange liquids, and all sorts of other things the girl didn't recognize or didn't want to recognize. The remaining wall was home to a huge study table that was half as wide as the wall, another table that was probably for more hands-on work, a chair, an ancient, dim lamp that flickered every now and then, and a small window that was draped by thick black curtains. The floor was grimy, stained and smudged in many places with dirt and dust that had accumulated over the years and proved resilient to any cleaning material, and was littered with wads of paper and other bits and pieces of research and random stuff.

A man with long, unkempt, dull blond hair and clad in rumpled clothes was hunched over the table, furiously scribbling on a huge piece of paper taped to the table, not bothered by either the scarce light, or the flickering of his lamp, or even the disarray of his room. He looked absolutely oblivious to everything except his work, and so did not hear his daughter call him the first time.

"Father, Major General Mustang wants to talk to you."

The scratching of the pencil stopped, and the man shoved himself away from the table, standing up and swaying slightly, as he had been seated there for a long while.

"Why would a soldier want to talk to me?" he asked in a raspy voice that sounded more like nails on a chalkboard than anything else. But the girl was used to it, having lived with him between seven and ten years – in short, all her life.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, as he stomped across the room and passed her by, absently pushing the blond hair away from the girl's left eye.

"Never mind, Riza," the man mumbled. As she left the doorway, he heard him snatch the receiver off the table and grumble, "Major General Mustang, I presume?"

The person at the other end of the line sounded as though he quickly stifled a gasp. "Oh…you must be Nicholas Hawkeye. Yes, I am Arthur Mustang. I have heard from a good friend of mine that you are quite an alchemist…"

"Is that military-speak for 'You are a moronic loon'?" was the sour reply. "Listen, if you think you're going to get me into that happy little army of yours – "

"Oh no, Mr. Hawkeye," said Arthur coolly. "I just want you to know that my son and I will be dropping by within a week or so. You see, I have been looking for an alchemy teacher…I mean, for my son. His name is – "

Mr. Hawkeye grunted. "How old is this son of yours?"

"Ten, but he'll be eleven soon."

"I don't teach alchemy to kids, Mustang. Children are way too naïve and trusting and innocent to be dabbling in such an art. And what makes you think that he's even _worth _teaching alchemy to?"

"He has been interested in the subject since…since he was four or five, I think. Roy is a real budding alchemist. He even fixes things around our house and creates…"

Mr. Hawkeye let out a barking noise that was a cross between a laugh and a snort. "_Four_? Don't make me laugh, Major General. Seriously, I don't teach alchemy, period. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm a very busy man."

"I'm serious," said Arthur, keeping his cordial tone. "But please…at least take a look at him. We'll be dropping by for a visit. Please, I've been looking for a teacher for my son, and he's very willing to learn…"

"Really now," drawled the alchemist. "Fine, do what you want. You know Grail Lane, right? You can find me at the very end. But I can't guarantee that I will be your son's mentor. And in the rare occasion that I actually decide that this boy is actually fit to learn and I actually wish to educate him, I will, of course, need payment. Don't tell me – when he grows up with knowledge in alchemy, you'll turn him into a State Alchemist?"

Arthur was silent for a second or two before answering, "That is completely up to him, I assure you. That is all; I look forward to seeing you, Mr. Hawkeye."

"Goodbye, General Mustang," said Mr. Hawkeye, returning the receiver with a bit more force than was necessary. Leaning against the table, he shoved some of his hair away from his face and muttered under his breath, "_Dogs_ of the military…whatever happened to alchemists 'being thou for the people'?"

Still, he couldn't help but be curious about this man Mustang and his son. _Interested in alchemy when he was only four…it's too good to be true. Then again, so many things in this world are – or were – too good to be true…_

He glanced down at the table he was now drumming his fingers on, and saw a framed photograph. The gold-painted frame, decorated with swirls and clouds, was fading and tarnishing, but the photo still remained clear – pretty much. At least he could see the three people in the picture – a tall, imposing man with earlobe-length golden hair that magnificently fell over his gray yet bright, euphoric eyes; a somewhat petite woman with delicately tanned skin, brown eyes infused with a bit of red, and jet-black hair pulled back into a long braid that snaked down her chest, carrying a young girl of about three, her hair restrained in two pigtails tied with bright red ribbons, who was blond and fair from her father, and inherited her mother's eyes and looks. They were dressed very formally; the man in a brown blazer over a white shirt and red tie and black trousers; the woman in a long blue dress that was buttoned up to her chest and adorned with lace around the collar and sleeves, and draped with a turquoise coat; and the child in a plaid skirt and a plain white blouse with a small scarlet bow tie and without sleeves.

They were all smiling for the camera, looking extremely happy.

It had been taken a few years ago…not too long before Perenelle was killed in an accident, leaving Riza motherless and Nicholas loveless.

_I guess it really was too good to be true…_

He glanced at the picture once more, a tear dripping onto Perenelle's face before placing it back beside the old phone.


	4. The Keys to Approval

The drive to Grail Lane was quite long, and Arthur had to stop every now and then to ask for directions and make sure he wasn't going the wrong way, as they wove in and out of the streets of Central. It had been a few days since Arthur had phoned Nicholas Hawkeye and told him to expect visitors.

"Are we there yet?" asked Roy for the umpteenth time, glancing down at his gray blazer, navy trousers and polished black shoes, and tugged impatiently at his black tie. "And do we really have to dress like this?" He let go of the tie and reached up to mess up his hair, which had been slicked back and coated with something sticky that made his head smell of fruit. He sat up front, beside his father.

"_Roy_," Arthur's gaze flicked towards the boy for a split second before focusing on the road again. "We'll get there when we get there, and we have to look our best. After all, we're meeting a very prolific alchemist who may well be the resident celebrity around here…and who would soon become your alchemy teacher." The major general himself was clad in an azure suit and a gold tie with thin blue stripes, plus a matching top hat. "After all, it's important to make a good impression when meeting someone for the first time."

"Well, I sure know what kind of impression these trees and houses are making. What kind of place is this, a ghost town?" Roy replied. He peeked out the window and watched the trees become more gnarled and decrepit as they drove past, and it looked as if the houses were aging rapidly and slowly deteriorating. A sign they breezed past screamed _Grail Lane_ in fading bold letters.

Arthur sighed, feeling the rather bleak aura that the place exuded. "Don't judge a book by its cover, son. Besides, Mr. Hawkeye lives at the very end. He can't be living in any of these houses. And I bet he earns enough money to – "

The line of houses suddenly ended, but straight ahead was the last one. It was big, though not as large as their mansion. And as it loomed before them, they could see the cracks in some parts, the wilted front yard where only sparse patches of weeds and wildflowers barely survived, gaps in the roof where some tiles were either broken or missing or misplaced, even a shattered window. Father and son, obviously used to their beautiful mansion, were considerably disappointed, though they tried their best not to show it. _Maybe this isn't it yet, _Arthur thought, and he wondered if Roy was also thinking the same thing.

He parked the car in front, and the two of them made their way towards the front door, treading a much worn cobblestone path and passing a very rusty mailbox with a bent flag. When they stepped up onto the porch and the threadbare welcome mat, the major general quickly ran his hand through Roy's hair, fixing it as best as he could, before knocking three times on the door. There seemed to be no doorbell.

"Now, speak only when you're spoken to, don't make any rude comments, and try not to talk too loudly. And please, keep your hair that way for a while, all right?"

Roy nodded absently. He was too busy gawking at one of the first floor windows, as though he saw something. But he instantly turned back to face the door when it opened with a slightly unnerving, creaking noise, revealing a disheveled man in rumpled clothes who was in dire need of a haircut, a shave, a bath, and some time out in fresh air. His gray eyes darted from the boy to his father, to their car, and back to them again before he spoke.

"You must be the Major General," he said in a stringent voice.

"You must be Nicholas Hawkeye. Good day to you, sir," Arthur replied formally, tipping his hat. _So this really is the place._ "And you can just call me Arthur Mustang."

Mr. Hawkeye nodded sternly. "Come in," he said tersely, making a crude sweeping gesture with one of his arms. He gazed more intently at Roy than at his father, probably sizing up the boy and wondering how a mere child could learn alchemy.

"Nice place you got here," said Arthur slowly as he found a place on the ancient sofa which was probably purple at some point in its life. He took in the rather stale aroma that hung in the air and instantly teased their noses, and the entire layout of the living room, and noticed that many – if not all – the furniture and other items were either broken, archaic, or both. For example, the cuckoo was sticking out of the clock on the wall, but it continued to tick with an hour hand that seemed to be sliced in half, and the radio's wires were frayed and mended with tape, and the table it sat on had a leg that was shorter than the rest, and propped up on a flat stone.

Practically the only pieces of furniture that seemed satisfactory by Arthur's standards were the bookshelves, stuffed with books, newspapers, and even more books. And as Roy plopped down beside his father – and Arthur wondered if the sofa they were sitting on would fall apart under their combined weight – the boy's eyes instantly lit up at the sight of the shelf. He was already itching to ask many, many questions, Arthur knew, and gripped Roy's shoulder to remind him of basic etiquette.

"Perhaps you would like some refreshments?" asked Mr. Hawkeye. "I'll go get us some juice and sandwiches."

"That would be nice," said Arthur, shifting around and pushing aside a misshapen cushion.

"Thank you, Mr. Hawkeye," chanted Roy.

The alchemist disappeared into the tattered sea-green curtains that separated the kitchen from the living room and vice versa. But then he stuck his head out again and said, "Um…if it's not too much trouble, General Mustang – "

"Call me Arthur."

"Arthur, then…do you, perchance, know how to fix a toaster? There seems to be something jammed in it…"

Arthur stood up from the sofa and gave Roy a stern look before the boy could ask why Mr. Hawkeye wasn't using alchemy. "Why, of course. Stay here, Roy, and don't touch anything."

When the two adults were gone, Roy found himself absolutely bored again. He leaned back against the sofa and stretched out his arms – and felt something hard and a bit dusty. Turning around, he saw a covered piano that he never really noticed before – probably because it was partly concealed by the sofa. He hopped off, nearly skidding on the carpet, and remembered his father's words.

_Don't touch anything._

Then again, there was nothing wrong with playing a tune or two on the piano. After all, what could go wrong, unless it was broken? But the piano didn't seem busted, and if he did do something wrong, he could always use alchemy – and at the same time, show this Mr. Hawkeye what he was truly capable of, alchemically and musically. Thanks to the Mustang credo of having "well-rounded children", Roy had been taught how to play the piano when he was only four, not too long before he got interested in alchemy.

Just to make sure, Roy walked up to it and lifted the lid. The strings seemed to be in order. Satisfied, he propped it up with the provided rod, and inspected the keys next, which were yellowing and dusty, but seemed to be in relatively good condition, good enough for playing. He bent down and probed the pedals and the seat, and nodded to himself after brushing the grime off his hands. Basically, the piano was rather old and unused, but fine in all other aspects.

The boy sat down after brushing a layer of dust off the cushioned seat, which seemed to deflate as he put his weight on it. After recalling his last recital piece, he placed his fingers on the first few notes, and started. Amazingly, the keys were still in tune.

He was definitely far from bored now.

---

Riza was upstairs, perched at the top of the staircase. She was bored too, and was a bit wary about meeting their guests for the day.

_Major General Arthur Mustang…_

_Mustang…_

She wondered if he was related to the boy she met in the park – the boy who introduced himself as Roy Mustang, bragged that his father was a general in the military, and declared that he was going to someday become a great alchemist.

Riza couldn't help but smile as she remembered his attempt at alchemy. _He's definitely got a long way to go. _Could this Arthur Mustang guy be Roy's father – and if that was true, would Roy be the boy who, according to her father, supposedly got into alchemy at the age of four and now wanted to be his student? She wanted to find out, but she was a bit shy. Most children didn't hang around with her, as they were afraid of Mr. Hawkeye and his mannerisms. Instead, they resorted to teasing her from a distance.

_But not Roy Mustang_…_but what if he found out I'm really my father's daughter?_

The girl perked up at the sound of music, all dubious thoughts briefly forgotten. Was someone playing the piano?

Ever since her mother died, nobody had touched the piano, and it went from the middle of the living room to behind the sofa, tucked away in a corner and forever untouched, as she was the only one who really used it. Perenelle Hawkeye was a piano virtuoso, who had an extensive musical repertoire and could play by ear, and would often entertain her husband and daughter with strains of music that ranged from folk ballads to classical melodies. Perenelle had promised Riza that she would teach her how to play, but never got to fulfill that promise after she was hit by a car, dying on the spot.

But who was playing now? Who stirred up so many happy and sad memories inside Riza that made her want to cry and laugh at the same time?

She stood up and, as noiselessly as possible, took a few steps down. The song continued – and Riza remembered that it had been one of her mother's favorites.

Peering through the banisters, the girl scanned the living room, but could barely get a glimpse of the sofa, let alone the piano behind it. She went down a bit more till the piano came into view – not to mention the person who was tickling the ivories with such skill and grace who looked very, very familiar…

_Roy?_

There was no doubt about it now. It was really him.

Riza wanted to head all the way to the first floor, but a part of her continued to cling to the banisters, settling for just watching him play and listening to his chosen tune. She opened her mouth and tried to call out to him –

"_Shoot_!" Roy gasped, the melody suddenly going awry. He glanced around, and Riza hurriedly raced up the stairs, disappearing again.

---

Roy could have sworn he sensed someone watching him – _listening_ to him. He pouted in frustration, wondering why he hit A when the next note was clearly an A sharp, before pondering more important things.

He had heard footsteps, but they didn't sound like they were coming from the kitchen, like the footsteps he was hearing now as his father emerged from the curtains, helping Mr. Hawkeye bring a tray of lemonade and sandwiches to the table in front of the sofa and between the two armchairs.

"I have to admit, boy, you play the piano very well," said Mr. Hawkeye, nodding at Roy, who had already vacated the seat and was covering the keys and replacing the lid. "You remind me of my late wife. And she used to play that piece..." He sat down in the armchair to the left of the table, letting out a long sigh as he picked out a loose thread from the fabric and flicked it away. "Anyway, Arthur, as I was saying, I'm afraid I can't let what's-his-name – "

"Roy."

"Right. Ten is too young, in my opinion, for anyone to be learning alchemy."

"I could understand the Law of Equivalent Exchange when I was four!" Roy suddenly burst out, flopping back onto the sofa. He poured himself a glass of lemonade, feeling the air condense into tiny, cold droplets as they came in contact with the glass. "Tell him, Dad! I'm even going to be eleven soon!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at his son in disapproval, but said, "Yes, I read him an alchemy book when he was four. He was bored, and got curious as to what alchemy is, and he ended up understanding more than I thought at that age. Then when he was six, he performed his first transmutation. I think it didn't go exactly as he planned, but it was a very good first try."

"You mean that vase thing?"

"Yes, that vase thing," said the major general, taking a huge bite out of his tuna sandwich. "Ever since then, he's been working very hard to become a good alchemist," he added after swallowing.

"A _great_ alchemist," Roy put in.

"He just needs a teacher, someone who has had experience, to show him the way," said Arthur. "And since you've been recommended, I can safely assume that you must really be a very skilled alchemist."

Mr. Hawkeye's mouth twitched at this compliment, but he retained his stoic expression. "He is only a child. There is much more to alchemy than meets the eye." At that last word, he glanced at Roy. "You may be a piano prodigy, and you might be a fast learner, from what I've heard, but perhaps this is not yet the time for you to start learning alchemy. And, there is much more to Equivalent Exchange than you think."

The boy raised his hand to object, but his father's firm hold on his shoulder kept him quiet – at least for that moment.

"If you say now isn't the time for Roy to learn," Arthur began, watching a crack form in one of the ice cubes in his lemonade, "then does that mean you're willing to wait until he's older?"

"I never said – "

"I still have to wait till I'm older?" asked Roy indignantly, slamming down his glass on the table so hard that a bit of the lemonade almost sloshed out. "I know I'm ready! Watch this!" He whipped out a piece of chalk from his trouser pocket, crouched down on the floor, and began drawing a circle on the floor. Within this circle was an equilateral triangle, and within that was another, albeit inverted, triangle.

Arthur gasped. "Roy!"

"Wait." Mr. Hawkeye shook his head, and Arthur saw the alchemist grin for the first time. "This I have to see. Okay, boy, show me what you've got."

When he was done with his array, Roy reached out for his glass, drained the last of the lemonade, and put the empty glass in the middle of everything. He barely hesitated as he put his hands on the powdery marks, and didn't flinch as the familiar golden light burst forth, bathing the dim room in a sunny glow. Neither of the two adults was surprised, and the two of them looked on even as the light slowly died away, and everything returned to normal, except the glass, of course.

What stood in the middle of Roy's transmutation circle now was a small, crystalline figure of a little girl with cropped hair, ready to fire her minuscule slingshot, one of her eyes closed as she took aim. The body was slightly misshapen, one of her arms was a bit shorter than the other, and the pedestal she stood on was irregular as well. When he picked it up and presented it on the table, Mr. Hawkeye and Arthur – taking out a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket – had to look a bit closer to see the slingshot.

Mr. Hawkeye reached out and felt the girl's head and face, caressing them as though she were his own daughter and feeling the smoothness of the glass underneath his fingers, worn down just right – at least, in most places – to create the details. He smiled even wider as he straightened up and allowed Arthur to take the figurine next.

"So," said the older alchemist, his face an unreadable mask, "I have to admit, that was quite good…for a child your age. Still, it needs some improvement."

Roy shrugged meekly, but couldn't help beaming at his work. When he had snatched up the glass and decided to make something out of it, at first he had no idea what to create, but somehow, the girl with the slingshot he had met in the park not too long ago suddenly popped into his head.

"I must say…you've really been studying hard, haven't you? I'm proud of you," said Arthur, patting Roy on the back. "So, Mr. Hawkeye – "

"Nicholas," was the reply. "Well…I can't say he's not talented. Neither can I say he hasn't been working. However…"

"What?" the two Mustangs chorused, both hanging onto his every word.

Mr. Hawkeye took up his sandwich again and seemed to speak to it instead of them. "I still believe that he needs to wait a while longer. Let him work on his own first, and have him return to me when he is ready to begin training, perhaps when he is older, around thirteen at the minimum. And of course, let him enjoy his childhood."

"I _am_ enjoying my childhood," Roy couldn't help barging in.

"Childhood's not all about alchemy and studying. Take some time to play and have fun. Besides, you're only ten. I'll take you as my apprentice when you're older, and perhaps wiser. Come back when you're at least thirteen, and I hope to see that you've improved much more by then. That's my final decision. It was nice meeting you, Major General, and your son…Roy."

"I see," said Arthur, nodding. "I assume this is the end of our visit. You heard the man, Roy."

Pouting, his son answered hesitantly, "All right."

"And…" Mr. Hawkeye smiled for the second time that day. "Continue practicing the piano. It's very good for you."

"Does it have anything to do with alchemy?" Roy couldn't help asking.

"No, it doesn't. Just keep up the good work, in alchemy, and in music. I'll be seeing you in a few years then. So this is goodbye…for now."

---

The afternoon sun was already getting ready to set, and the blue in the sky was slowly relinquishing its hold on the heavens, giving way to a myriad of other colors. Riza sat beside her bedroom window, her hands clutching her slingshot and her eyes gazing out the window. She could see her father walking down the cobblestone path, accompanying and possibly also talking to Mr. Mustang, who was herding a boy towards their car.

_So you're not just an alchemist, _Riza mused to herself.

Then the boy looked up – straight through her window on the second floor of their house. _Could he see me?_ He was probably thinking the same thing, as he squinted and stood on his tiptoes to try and get a better look. She wondered if she should wave, or open her window and call out to him...as for Roy, he wasn't doing much either, merely staring at her window – maybe even her.

But it was too late. His father beckoned him to the front seat of the car, and Roy turned around to comply. In no time at all, the car was zooming away, leaving her father standing alone at the end of the path, watching as their car got smaller and smaller, and eventually disappeared out of sight.

She was watching too, and felt a twinge of regret. Riza put her slingshot on her lap and rested her elbows on the windowsill.

_Maybe I should have gone down after all…_

---

_Sorry, this was rushed, I know. XD I had to go to bed, I've got classes tomorrow! Heh._


	5. The Alchemy That Binds Us

The day was already fading away rapidly, the blue almost completely gone from the skies and overwritten by splashes of warm colors and the occasional streak of purple or black. Still, Riza just sat there in her chair, facing the window and continuing to watch Grail Lane, the old, placid street she called home, even after whatever she had originally been watching was long gone – the Mustangs' large, black car, a symbol of their social status. Her fingers absently toyed with her slingshot, feeling the fine, grainy wood that made up the Y-shaped part, and the firm, elastic sling, perfect for loading in a good-sized stone, before she stretched out her arm and placed it on her desk.

A hard knock on her door finally got her out of her chair, and in no time at all she undid the latch and stepped back as the door swung open.

"Why didn't you come down to greet our guests, Riza?"

The girl shrugged, observing her father as he turned something over and over in his right hand – callused, scarred and with long, grimy fingernails. The thing was shiny, and bits of the last rays of sunlight streaming into her bedroom were reflected off it. Whatever it was, it was irregularly shaped, and was made of glass or something similar.

"What's that?" she asked curiously.

"You should've come down to see the boy Mustang create this out of one of my glasses and alchemy," said Mr. Hawkeye, nodding in approval. "Don't be so shy, Riza. And not only that, he's a pianist. I seem to have underestimated the boy." He passed the figurine to her cupped hands, so delicate, soft and flawless despite wielding slingshots, and starkly contrasting with her father's palms.

Riza examined the figure, marveling at how the details had been carved into it – the short hair of the girl that fell partly over her left eye, which was shut as she aimed with a minute slingshot. The arm that pulled the sling and stone back was a bit shorter than the other, and her torso was a bit blobby in a place or two, but it was still something worth showing off. She smiled, and handed it back to Mr. Hawkeye. _Definitely better than his cannon, _she thought.

"I wasn't _shy_," she said mulishly. "I just had…better things to do." _Better things to do? Like wonder if this Roy Mustang was the same Roy Mustang you met in the park – which he is, and listen to him play the piano while hanging around at the top of the staircase? Perhaps you should've just gone downstairs after all…but…_

Blocking out that voice that was screaming into her head, she added, "Is dinner ready yet?"

"Yes," said Mr. Hawkeye, patting her on the head. "Oh…and this is for you. It must mean something, the fact that it looks so much like you."

He placed the figure into her open hand. Riza found herself staring down into the crystalline girl's open eye. For a moment, it looked as though the figure was aiming for Riza's nose.

---

Dinner that night was quiet, as always – an Ishbalan-style stew whose name Mr. Hawkeye always failed to pronounce correctly. When they were done, Riza cleared the table, hauled the dishes towards the sink, and soon the sounds of scrubbing and rushing water filled the kitchen.

Of course, Mr. Hawkeye also did his share of the work. His slightly dampened rag skimmed across the tabletop after doing its job on the placemats, and when that was done, he checked the table, the three chairs, and the area around them for anything else that needed fixing or cleaning. He finished first before his daughter, and retreated, for the umpteenth time, into his study, where he headed straight for the nearest bookshelf. Instead of pulling out a single volume, his fingers closed around an encyclopedia and a dictionary, and he ripped them both from the shelf. And instead of reading them, he tossed them rather unceremoniously on his desk with two loud whapping noises.

Rather instinctively, his hand shot out to grab a dark blue book tucked away at the very back, veined with a network of tiny grooves of wear and tear. The embossed cursive text used to be golden, but much of it had peeled away, leaving only faint outlines of letters that spelled out _Nicholas, Perenelle and Riza Hawkeye._

He sighed, opening the book, which was actually an album. There weren't many words, but there were many pictures. And the first one he saw was a fading, black-and-white photo of a young man in a black tuxedo, standing beside a slightly shorter woman with darker skin and a light gown that fell all around her feet. Her veil was tucked away from her face, and her arms, covered with satin fingerless gloves that reached all the way up to her elbows, were wrapped around the man. Their lips touched in an affectionate kiss.

With another sigh, Mr. Hawkeye flopped into his chair, tracing the outline of the woman's blank face.

---

"_Where…where am I?"_

"_Lie back down. Your head is bleeding, but thankfully it's nothing serious enough for a trip to the hospital. Here…it's time for me to replace your bandages. The blood's soaking right through the old ones."_

"_No, I'm fine…I feel fine…"_

"_You shouldn't have made that public display of alchemy in my village. You know what the people who live here believe in."_

"_I know…I just wanted to help. Oh…that does feel good."_

"_I soaked the bandages in a special herbal mixture that helps ease the pain and the cut heal faster. Now, isn't that much better…Mr. Hawkeye?"_

"_Yes…what is your name, by the way? You don't seem as apprehensive about alchemy as everyone else here."_

"_Oh…I believe that there must be a reason for the Grand Arcanum – that's what we call alchemy – to exist, even after we've long shunned the tradition. Why else would Ishbala will it so? And you can call me Perenelle, Mr. Hawkeye."_

"_Thank you…Perenelle. And it's Nicholas."_

---

"_Father…Mommy's not coming back, is she?"_

"_No, Riza…not ever. Not even alchemy can bring back the dead, and dire consequences await those who are foolish enough to try…oh, honey…"_

_The sound of the impending rain made it seem as though the heavens were crying along with them as they stood by the tombstone that screamed in grim font the name and dates of birth and death of Perenelle Hawkeye. He gripped his handkerchief, black to match his suit and cloak and his daughter's dress, tightly and held it close to his eyes as the tears began to flow and moans of despair and heartbreak emanated from his throat._

_Crouching down, he opened his arms for Riza, embraced her much tighter than he had held his handkerchief and pulled the hood of her dress up onto her head. She shook slightly, and he could feel her own tears dripping onto her shoulder. Unlike him, Riza sobbed more silently. _

_Everyone else had already long gone, and they were the only ones left in that side of the cemetery._

_The rain continued, falling even harder and faster than ever before. Father and daughter were getting more soaked by the minute, but at that moment, neither of them really cared. Mr. Hawkeye whispered one word in between sobs, a word that wavered before fading away…_

"_Perenelle…"_

---

"Father?"

_Perenelle…you were the only woman I ever truly loved…_

"You're saying Mommy's name over and over in your sleep again. And you fell asleep in your chair again."

Mr. Hawkeye sat up straight in his chair, the ancient album tumbling out of his hands and crashing against his knees before falling onto the floor. He watched Riza swoop down and pick it up, tottering slightly under its weight. The girl thrust it back at him, and he nodded sadly as he took the album from her hands.

"I know…it's been a little over two years since the last time we saw her smiling face. How old were you then…"

"I was five," said Riza, frowning thoughtfully.

"Yes, yes…what time is it?" He glanced at the cracked clock that sat on his table. "I think it's about time you went to bed, Riza."

She kissed him on his unshaven cheek, and Mr. Hawkeye managed a small smile as he embraced his daughter – the same way he had done so before his wife's grave. He ran a hand through her cropped hair, and felt her wrap her arms around his shoulders. Mr. Hawkeye took a deep breath and finally let her go to get ready for bed. The girl walked away and exited his study, leaving him alone again.

_If only it hadn't been raining that night…if only that car hadn't swerved…if only it hadn't crashed straight into you and pinned you against that brick wall, smothering the life out of you…_

Once again, the album was open to the page that contained the photo of the happy Hawkeye couple, among other equally happy photos. After all, it was an entire spread of wedding pictures, depicting the same man in a dashing black suit and the same woman in a flowing peach-colored dress and veil that somewhat clashed with her skin color.

Feeling his lower lip start to quiver, Mr. Hawkeye tried his best to will himself not to cry, clenching his right hand into a tight fist. It had been two years, all right…two years without Perenelle. He was surprised that he had not gone insane yet…

_At least Riza is doing fine…much better than I am, actually. Oh, Perenelle, if only you could see her now…Riza Artemis Hawkeye, already seven…_

_And yes, she has your eyes…_

---

Several days after Arthur and Roy paid Mr. Hawkeye a visit, the Mustang mansion was bustling with activity, and the entire front lawn was covered with tables, chairs and a huge buffet table, not to mention a small stage and podium. The people, ranging from middle- to upper-class, but mostly in the latter bracket, were either outside, eating and striking up random conversations, or inside, probably admiring the mansion's interior or simply relaxing and striking up more random conversations in either the Mustangs' spacious living room, or den, or library. Indeed, Roy's eleventh birthday party was in full swing.

As for the birthday boy himself, he was inside, sitting at his family's grand piano and playing one of the fastest, most upbeat tunes he knew, while a crowd of children around his age – mostly girls – gathered around to watch and listen. Some adults nearby observed from a distance, nodding in approval at how the boy truly exemplified the Mustang credo, including Regine, who was bragging about her brother to a young man with tightly curled black hair and dancing hazel eyes. As they talked, anyone could see the dreamy glint in her gaze.

"Listen to him play," sighed a redheaded girl seated at the foot of the piano wistfully, fiddling with the bow tie on her frilly, pale yellow dress. "I'll never be able to play as good as he can."

"I know," agreed another girl, who looked like the redhead's little sister.

"I'm gonna invite him to my birthday party, which is one month from now," proclaimed a blonde, clapping her hands and giggling as the many gold bangles on her wrists jangled. "Not only is he gonna play my favorite songs and make me gifts out of alchemy, but he's also gonna dance with me, 'cause he's the cutest, smartest, best, most handsomest boy in Central."

The redhead stuck her tongue out at the blonde. "Dream on, Penny."

"You dream on, Marie," whined Penny.

"Shhh, you two are being so noisy! I can't hear Roy play!" interjected yet another girl, her emerald-green eyes flashing along with her necklace and earrings as she glared at them. "Besides, my birthday comes before any of your birthdays. I'm gonna invite him first and give him the bestest-best place!"

"I don't care, Stella," said Marie. "When I grow up, I'm gonna marry him and we'll make lots of nice music together 'cause I'm a violinist. Then he'll alchemize a big statue of me whenever it's my birthday."

"So what? He knows the violin loads more than you do, and why would he want to waste alchemy on making a big statue of you that's just gonna be really ugly anyway?" retorted Penny. She and the others rolled their eyes and made faces.

Roy couldn't help smiling a bit to himself as he pressed down on a pedal with his foot and crossed his right hand over his left. After all, he was getting a whole lot of attention – and not just from the girls who were either his cousins or the daughters of his parents' friends. Still, it would be nice to hang out with a girl who did much, much more than pester him to play their favorite songs on the piano and/or violin, or create things like accessories, statuettes and rings of flowers out of alchemy. As his fingers glided over the keys, he glanced briefly out the nearest window, squinting at the bright afternoon sunlight that streamed through the glass.

His pinky almost slipped on B flat when he realized what he saw.

_Riza?_

There she was, the blond girl with the boyish haircut, walking casually past the mansion and hefting a brown paper bag. At first, he doubted whether it was indeed Riza, but the slingshot sticking out of the back pocket of her knee-length shorts clinched it. But what was she doing here?

And did she just look towards him?

_Clang!_

"ARGH!"

Roy scolded himself for losing focus again. This time, he ended up pushing keys that were several pitches lower than what were supposed to sound.

"Sorry," he mumbled, more to the piano than to his audience.

"It's all right," chirped Stella, quickly scooting onto the bench. "You're still the greatest piano player I know."

"The greatest piano player in the world," added Penny, hopping onto Roy's other side. "That's much more impressive than just 'the greatest piano player I know'." She narrowed her eyes at Stella. "And not just that -

"You took my place!" howled a girl whose brown hair fell to her shoulders in ringlets. "Move it, Penny!" She reached out and grabbed fistfuls of blond hair, making Penny squeal like a chased piglet.

The boy shuddered as he slowly got off the bench, grinning and scratching his head. "Eh…don't worry, you can use the piano. I'm done…"

"Wait!" whined Marie. "What about – "

"Maybe later," said Roy, chuckling nervously. "And…I wouldn't fight if I were you – you'd get in trouble with your parents." He backed away a few steps before walking quickly towards the front door. As it closed with a click behind him, the girls stared after it for a while, almost all of them crowded on the bench.

"Great, now you scared him away!" said Marie, crossing her arms and pouting.

The rest of the girls turned to face her. "What?"

---

Roy wove in and out of the tables, nearly tripping over a chair, but instantly righting himself as he walked as fast as he could. Thankfully she wasn't too far away, so the adults outside – his parents included – could still keep an eye on him.

"Riza!" he called out. "Riza! Riza!"

She turned around, the hair that partly concealed her left eye rippling as she moved. "R – Roy? Why are you dressed like that? Do you have a party or something?"

Glancing down at his blue jacket and trousers, his red bow tie and his meticulously-polished black shoes, he replied with an air of importance as he jabbed his chest proudly with his thumb, "Well…it's my eleventh birthday today."

Riza's eyes widened and her mouth opened, but no sound came out for a while before she said, "Oh…happy birthday! Sorry…I guess I don't have a gift. My father gave me only enough money to buy some things he needs for his alchemy." She raised a brow and added, "I bet that's what you were looking for – a gift from me, huh?" A bit of breeze later, several strands of her golden locks descended into her eyes, and she hastily brushed them away.

"Maybe you would like a gift from me," said Roy with a small yet warm smile. He pulled out a piece of chalk, worn down by many past drawings of transmutation circles, from a pocket inside his jacket. The stub skimmed upon the pavement, leaving its usual white trail, and when the trails came together to form a simple array composed of two concentric circles, a square and a diamond. He then reached into his pocket again and placed three sparkling marbles at the center of all the shapes, and before they could roll away, Roy began the transmutation as Riza looked on in awe and curiosity.

When normal afternoon sunlight returned, Roy was holding out a small hairclip streaked with various colors ranging from a soft, gentle pink to a dark, mysterious blue. Riza gazed at it, and looked up to watch his expectant expression.

"For…me?" But deep inside, she knew that was a rather stupid question.

"So you don't have to worry about hair getting into your eyes a lot," said Roy, smirking and looking so full of himself that Riza quelled the bubbling giggles that were rising in her throat.

"Thanks…" Deliberately she took the clip, put her bag down next to her and fastened it so that it held the loosest bits of her hair in place. "So…how does it look?"

He flashed a thumbs-up sign at her. "Say, do you want to come to my party? There's probably still some cake left…"

Riza blinked. "Come to your party? Well…I can't," she said, the corners of her mouth turning down. "I have to go home right away after running an errand."

"Wait," said Roy abruptly, "you said your father was an alchemist. I mean, you were buying those things for his alchemy. I never knew that."

"Well, he is. He's going to be your alchemy teacher in a couple of years…Roy Mustang."

Somewhere in the heavens, a songbird called out to its fellows. Somewhere amidst the tables set out for the celebration, a man whooped loudly and was drowned out by several bouts of laughter. Somewhere not too far from the Mustang mansion, a dog let out a bone-chilling howl.

"Wait," he repeated. "You mean – Mr. Nicholas Hawkeye – is your father?" Roy laughed, crossing his arms imperiously and staring intently at her. "So, Riza _Hawkeye_, where were you when I went to visit your father?"

The girl blinked a few more times and frowned thoughtfully. "Well…I was upstairs," she answered. "I heard you play the piano, and I saw you again when I passed by – through the window. Or at least, I thought that was you, in your mansion. Anyway, I knew that piece – wasn't it called _The_ _Requiem_?"

Roy nodded. "That was my recital piece. How did you know?"

Riza fingered the clip in her hair and shifted around. Knotting her hands together, she whispered so softly that he had to lean in to hear, "It was one of my mother's favorites. We would always hear it – my mom was the best pianist and singer I knew. She promised to teach it to me…"

"But where's your mom? I mean…I didn't see anyone in the house besides Mr. Hawkeye, when my dad and I went to – "

"My mom is dead. She died when a car slipped on the road and crashed into her and a brick wall. She and the driver both died in the accident. I was only five."

"How old are you now?" asked Roy, for lack of something else to say.

"Seven."

He nodded solemnly, and slowly reached out for one of her hands, squeezing it gently. "I…I didn't mean to…"

Riza shook her head. "You didn't do anything," she replied, slowly pulling her hand away and reaching for her paper bag. "Listen…I have to go now. Father's probably waiting. See you…in two years, Roy."

"Maybe it might not be two years," he said hopefully. "We could probably run into each other like this again…before I start learning alchemy under your dad. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," said Riza, turning away. "Goodbye."

In no time at all she turned a corner and disappeared from sight, leaving the birthday boy standing on the pavement before his chalky array. Before he could ponder on more important things than his transmutation, he heard clapping footsteps behind him – two sets, judging from how they alternated. Two voices rang out as well, calling, "There you are, Roy! They're waiting for your special violin number!"

"Hmm?" The youngest Mustang child whipped around to see his twin sisters – who, despite their identical facial features, didn't look exactly like twins. One of them had on a silky, sleeveless carnation gown with a red-violet chiffon shawl and pulled her hair back in a tight bun with two matching jeweled sticks. Any chestnut locks that escaped were curled and dangled in front of her ears. The other girl was clad in a bright red, off-shoulder dress with long sleeves, and two small braids, tied with red ribbons, marked a path through her sea of hair.

"It's time for your piece," said Elizabeth, who was in pink. She adjusted her shawl. "Mom and Dad's duet is done. Then after you is the finale."

"The Mustang string quartet," supplied Victoria, chuckling. She took Roy's hand. "I swear I won't screw up the cello like I did last time we practiced."

Her twin smirked. "You better not…remember that Ginny threatened to shove her viola down your throat if you do."

"I know…hey, Roy, let's go!"

Vicky tugged gently at her brother's hand.

"Who was that girl you were talking to awhile ago?" she asked softly. "You should've invited her…"

"Uh…" He raised his shoulders and nonchalantly pushed some of his black bangs from his forehead. "She had stuff to do…"

Lizzie grabbed Vicky and Roy's free hands and hauled them back towards the party. "Come _on_!"

With one last glance at the corner where Riza had gone, Roy reluctantly let the twins drag him away, where the girls would start fighting over him again and the adults would continue exalting him and the way he was being brought up. He let out a long, low breath.

_I _did_ invite her…the problem was, she turned it down. Well, she did have a good reason…but still…_

"Roy? What's wrong?" asked Lizzie.

"Nothing…I guess I had too much cake awhile ago."

---

_Whew, at last, an update! XD I blame college. As always._

_ And kudos to 1st Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye for the inspiration for the hair clip transmutation! Heh.  
_


	6. Requiem

"_What happened? Where are you taking me? What happened to Nellie?"_

"_Mr. Hawkeye! Mr. Hawkeye!"_

"_She's here…"_

_Various voices rang over the harsh beating of rain and the occasional boom of thunder. It was as if darkness had come early in the afternoon, as gray clouds rolled in the sky overhead. Water poured down on Mr. Hawkeye's hooded head as he held his gray traveling cloak, gray as the weather, around him tightly, but he paid no heed and concentrated on the shouts that echoed along the barricaded street, which came from a crowd of people huddled around a car that seemed to have swerved onto the sidewalk and crashed into a condemned brick building. _

_His boots splashed furiously through puddle after puddle as he sprinted towards them, accompanied by a young man and a slightly younger woman. The call had felt like an eternity ago and a second ago at the same time…for a moment his thoughts drifted to his five-year-old Riza, whom he had left in the care of the neighbors when he went to see what the fuss was all about, why he was so desperately needed, and most of all, how his beloved was involved._

_People stepped aside as he ran. And when the scene came into view, he hurriedly slowed down, and it was as if the entire world was slowing down with him._

_The car had indeed collided with a brick wall, several bricks and some metal car parts lying on the pavement like silent witnesses. Like the wall, the front had been hopelessly mashed._

_But those weren't what everyone was looking at. They were looking down, on two large blankets with feet sticking out from underneath them. One pair was clad in old, worn-out boots and didn't arouse any dormant memories within Mr. Hawkeye, but the other was all too recognizable – scarlet closed slippers with golden trim that formed spirals and flowers all around. And sticking out from underneath that particular blanket was an outstretched arm, bloody, damp, and muddy, but most of all, brown-skinned._

"_Nick…"_

"_Roger, what's going on? Is that…that…"_

_Mr. Hawkeye's knees started to buckle. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were wide. Then he plopped down onto the wet road, not minding how hard his knees collided or how wet and dirty his legs would be. Walking on his knees, he flung his arms around the covered body possessing the red shoes. He let out an almost feral cry, and tears began mixing with the raindrops already cascading down his face. _

"_Perenelle!" he called out her name, his voice wavering as he sobbed. "What happened? What happened to her? What happened here?"_

"_We still haven't identified the other casualty – he was driving the car, it was raining really hard, and we can only speculate from the angle of his car when he crashed that he slipped, and mowed down the woman before sandwiching her between his bumper and the wall and dying himself," said a man in a long trench coat, adjusting his hat and flashing a badge that indicated he was a detective. "And besides, the man who accidentally ran her down is also dead, so we can't have a trial or anything."_

"_No…she can't die! She just can't! Perenelle, I'm here! Are you all right?"_

_He peeled off one corner of the blanket to see her face. Her eyes were closed, her dark ponytail was a mess, but most of all, she was drenched in blood and many parts of her had been crushed so that some of her flesh and even bones could be seen. Her mouth was partly open; her scream had been stilled forever and turned into a river of blood stemming from her lips. Mr. Hawkeye caressed her cold face, desperately holding it up so it faced him. _

"_We're sorry," said the detective solemnly, and some people murmured or nodded their agreement. Faint cries could be heard in the background. "It all happened so fast…"_

"_Too fast," whispered Mr. Hawkeye to himself, finally lowering Perenelle's head and gritting his teeth in anguish as the tears kept on coming and more sobs bubbled up from within his throat. "It all happened so fast…"_

---

"Father? Are you awake?"

Mr. Hawkeye jerked to a sitting position, his eyes flew open, and he felt himself breathing hard. He felt the armrests of the chair he had been sleeping in, and glanced down at the alchemy book on his lap, open to pages 166 to 167. The next thing he saw was his daughter, standing before him and holding out a paper bag. It was no longer a gray, rainy afternoon, but a bright one that knew twilight was just around the corner.

"Oh…Riza, you're back," he said, taking a deep breath and stretching out his arms. "So, were you able to get everything?" Reaching out, he took her into an embrace and caressed her head of hair – and felt something besides her scalp, something smooth and hard. "What's this?"

"It's a hairclip," she said, shrugging.

"You haven't worn anything in your hair for quite a while now," Mr. Hawkeye noted, smiling in amusement. "You wanted to try something new, huh? Was this one of the clips your mother left for you?"

Riza nodded; then shook her head. "No…someone made it for me." Her father saw her cheeks begin to flush.

"Made it for you…with alchemy?"

"Yes…it was Roy Mustang."

"You've met the boy," said Mr. Hawkeye.

"I met him in a park not too long ago…he made a cannon about this high." Riza bent down slightly and estimated the height with her hand. "It wasn't that strong, and it didn't do too much. "Then I passed by their mansion after going to the store…and he made me the clip, using some marbles and alchemy. It's his eleventh birthday today."

The alchemist nodded. "So…only two more years till he becomes my apprentice. Let me see that." Gently he unfastened the hair accessory, and as Riza's bangs fell over her face again, he turned it over and over in his callused hand, squinting as the shiny surface reflected the afternoon light streaming from the nearest window. It didn't take too long for him to return it to her.

"Very interesting, this boy Mustang," he mused. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I can't wait until he turns thirteen. Who knows, he might actually grow up to become a great alchemist, just like he's said."

And Riza couldn't help but agree with him.

On both counts.

---

"Roy, you've been playing that piece over and over and _over and over_ again since my mom and dad dropped me off 'cause they're taking Minnie to the doctor. Can't you play something else…like your favorite song, or maybe _my_ favorite song? Besides, your mom and dad said that you should be nice to me."

"Ma-_rie_…"

Pulling his fingers away from the keys, Roy took several deep breaths and gritted his teeth after muttering about how he was so close to finishing without a single mistake.

Now, Marie was the elder daughter of one of his mother's friends, and thus was always welcome to spend an idle day or two at the mansion. However, the redheaded nine-year-old was also quite a chatterbox and a nuisance, at least to Roy, and even though she was pretty good on the violin, she wasn't as good with keeping her mouth shut for a few seconds, or giving him some time alone to practice _The Requiem_.

And she had been whining for a while now, getting on his nerves. He wondered if he could let his sisters baby-sit Marie, but they were probably busy and he didn't want to force her on them. Another reason why he was the one stuck with her was that he was the closest to her age – not to mention that among the four Mustang children, he was the one she most liked, something Ginny, Vicky and Lizzie never stopped teasing him for.

"I want it to be perfect," he muttered, cracking his knuckles and peeking at the last page of the composition. "What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong is that I want to play my violin along, but that piece is too hard for me. I mean, it's really, really great that you're a musical genius and an alchemist to boot, but…"

"Can't you practice on your own?" His voice rose at the last word. "I mean, there are probably like, a hundred rooms around here for you to do that without bothering me…"

"But I want to practice with you!" Marie burst out, flicking open the clasps on her violin case and bringing out the bow first, inspecting its strings. "Plus, it's more fun when we do it together!" She smiled brightly at him, batting her eyelashes – which, frankly, was a move already worn out by many girls Roy knew. "Besides, you've already played that piece for your last recital! Don't you want to try something else? What's so important about getting it perfect, anyway?"

While she ranted his ears off, Roy had been idly tapping middle C and C sharp. But when he heard her last question, his index finger froze over the white key. For a moment his mind flashed back to his eleventh birthday, several days ago…

"_It was one of my mother's favorites. We would always hear it – my mom was the best pianist and singer I knew. She promised to teach it to me…"_

_When I start my alchemy lessons for the first time, I want to surprise Riza…by playing it just right, hopefully like how her mother used to…unlike the last time I was at her house, when I made a stupid mistake…_

He nearly fell off the seat at the sight of a bow waving back and forth in front of him. "Marie, quit it! You could poke an eye out with that thing!"

"Come on, what's so important about _The Requiem_, when you could be playing something a lot happier…like this!" After putting down her bow, she flipped the pages of her book and shoved a fast, upbeat composition into his face. "And I don't think I've heard you play this before…and we can – "

"I get it, I get it," grumbled Roy. "But listen, I – "

"Please? Oh, please?"

"Look, I'll run through this one more time, all right?"

"That's what you said ages ago, and it's been a lot more than just one time!"

Marie crossed her arms after putting her book on top of the piano. Judging from the expression on her face, she looked as though she wanted to slap Roy across the face with the book – several times.

"I'm sorry! Sheesh, what's so great about practicing together, anyway, and what's so important about it? You've got a different piece to work on, anyhow. You don't need my help."

"But it's more fun that way!" she answered shrilly.

"I think you just want to play with me so you can brag to all your friends about it! What am I, some pretty shiny toy you can show off to everyone?" said Roy sarcastically, deliberately looking away from Marie. He rested his chin in his hand and plopped his elbow on the piano, not minding the eerie shuddering tone that came from the pressed keys, which was drowned out by their argument anyway.

She gasped. "What?"

"Okay, okay, break it up, break it up. We wouldn't want this mansion collapsing all around us. Plus, Mom would murder us if we disturb her while she's working in the kitchen. She's got an important client, you know, really important – as in, a general in the military who's part of the Führer's inner circle."

Regine sighed, leaning against the doorway that led to the east wing and idly twirling a strand of her dark brown hair around her index finger.

"It was all Marie's fault," said Roy. He turned around to point and glare at the accused.

"Me? Why me?" Marie stomped her foot, narrowly missing her violin case.

"Because if you hadn't been so annoying – "

"Because if you had just practiced with me – "

"Shut up!"

"You shut up, you – "

The eldest Mustang sister clamped her hands down – hard – on the children's shoulders, with a rather incongruous jingle from her charm bracelet. Marie growled like an angry dog, while Roy quieted down instantly, his face speaking for him.

"_Honestly_," said Ginny, relinquishing her grip on them. "Look, Marie, you can stay with Vicky and Lizzie in the library for a while. You can probably find some violin books to read there, but if you want to practice, you can go to the den, which isn't too far from there. I'll tell my mom where you've gone and we'll call you when your parents come back."

"Fine," said the girl, shooting both of them a glowering look before packing away her violin and stomping away towards the library. When they heard the loud slam of the polished double doors, Regine took a seat beside Roy in front of the piano. Before he could open his mouth to ask what was going on, she spoke first.

"You two were fine a moment ago…I know Marie isn't exactly your best friend in the whole world, but that's not a valid reason to yell at her, or to provoke her in any way. Plus, we can't do anything if her parents have to leave her with us since they have to take her little sister for a doctor's appointment except make her feel at home at least for a couple of hours or so…"

He scowled. "She's annoying me. All I wanted to do was to practice on my own but she keeps on insisting we do things together all the time…"

His sister nodded. "Well, have you ever tried telling her that you need a bit of time alone?"

"A lot of times, Ginny," complained Roy, rolling his eyes. "But she just won't listen."

"And will shouting make her listen? From what I've heard, it didn't…now I want you to listen to me. Let's at least try to be more accommodating for Marie, all right?" Regine gently dug her fingers into his hair and said more softly, "Besides, she'll be gone once her parents come back for her." She winked at him.

"I guess," he replied with a shrug. "I'm sorry. Guess I'll have to say sorry to her before she leaves, right?"

Regine gave him a small smile. "Yes…you know…she might not be as annoying as you think. And even though it's normal for fights to crop up every now and then among us human beings, the world would be a much better place if we didn't fight so much. And when you do say sorry, you have to mean it, or else it won't mean a thing, if you get my drift."

Her brother said nothing this time, but nodded, his mouth slowly moving up into a grin, which instantly faded again when Regine asked a question he didn't see coming.

"Hmm…why _were_ you practicing _The Requiem_? That was your last recital piece, wasn't it? Do you have another one coming up and you're going to play it again? I mean…I'm just really curious."

Roy blinked and stared up at Regine. _I want to play it for Riza when I see her again, when I become Mr. Hawkeye's apprentice…if her mom's not around to play for her, maybe I can play Mrs. Hawkeye's favorite songs. I'm probably not as good…but I want Riza to hear…_

"Roy?"

"I dunno…well...let's just say that there's someone whom I want to play this piece for…and I want it to be perfect…"

At first, Regine stayed silent, digesting this answer and possibly thinking further into the situation, but then she said, "That's really nice of you." She chuckled shortly and added, "I mean, it's always your friends who beg you to sit at the piano or pick up the violin, or even perform alchemy for them…it's a nice change, sharing your talents spontaneously instead of giving in to a clamoring audience. And you're playing the piano more often these days…instead of just holing yourself up in your room and doing alchemy…"

Her voice trailed off, and she draped an arm affectionately around his shoulder. Roy had the strangest, fleeting feeling that she knew something he didn't want her to know, or thought of something he didn't want her thinking of, but shrugged it off, especially as she spoke again.

"Maybe you should apologize to Marie now."

---

_Yup, when in doubt, blame college. XD_


	7. The Fire Within

_AUTHOR'S NOTES: I nicked the lyrics of the Requiem from Wikipedia. Type in "requiem" and it should take you there._

_Anyhow, if you have seen the tattoo (I won't elaborate in case I accidentally spoil anyone) in chapter 57 close-up, or if you've been reading in-depth articles on the subject, you'll instantly see the importance of the Requiem lyrics._

---

"Roy?"

Victoria opened the door to his room a crack before swinging it wide open with a soft yet abrupt creak and adding with a bit of a giggle, "Dinner's ready…don't starve yourself or else I'll force-feed you!"

Roy's bedroom was spacious and had pretty much everything an eleven-year-old son of a wealthy family could ask for – two wardrobes and a full bookshelf occupying a single wall, a four-poster canopy bed with navy sheets and placed beside the two blue-curtained windows, a large desk that was currently deluged in papers with varying alchemic arrays drawn on them, open and closed books, different writing materials, a chair upon which a black hooded jacket had been draped, and tucked in one corner was a closed but unlocked chest, presumably full of the toys he had outgrown, his violin case leaning against it. The other three walls were sprinkled with family photos, various awards and merits, and crude pencil drawings of transmutation circles.

And as for the boy himself, he was seated on the wooden floor, creating another circle with a stub of chalk. When that was done, he put a strange assortment of random items in the middle – a few shiny pebbles and some small marbles – and placed his hands on the markings.

Victoria squinted as everything was deluged in gold, and it was as if night had not come yet. As everything cleared, she couldn't help taking several steps closer to see what her youngest sibling had produced.

"What's that? Oh, wait…"

Roy smiled, picking up whatever had come from the transmutation, something half a foot high. He held it up for her to see, and she took it curiously.

It was a miniature version of the young alchemist, a tiny statuette with a strange but beautiful sheen that reflected the light coming from the light overhead. The figure, clutching a stick of chalk – at least, that was what Victoria thought he was holding – in one hand and with his violin tucked under his other arm, stood on a thin pedestal that was patterned to look like the floorboards in the real Roy's bedroom. An array was engraved into the pedestal, several interlocking triangles inside the smaller of two concentric circles, and beside it was a small stack of books.

"Looks just like you," Victoria remarked, nodding in approval as she gave Roy back his creation. "So, that makes everyone in the family, right?"

He grinned and stood up, brushing his knee-length shorts clean. Victoria followed him as he placed the figure onto a small shelf, which was already getting pretty crowded with the rest of his family-inspired alchemic creations.

There was a major general in his complete military uniform, standing ramrod-straight, saluting and holding a rifle in his other hand; their father had always been partial to the rifle. Beside him was a woman with hair pulled back into a bun, wearing an apron over her blouse and skirt and mixing something in her little bowl, smiling widely as she did so. Next was a piano, where Regine sat leafing through minuscule musical scores and her mouth was open in song. Elizabeth was perched on a stack of books and wrote in her tiny diary with a long quill, but her eyes were directed towards a girl who looked exactly like her, wearing a long ball gown and with arms extended into thin air, as though dancing with an invisible man. Now the model of Roy joined the rest of the Mustangs, taking the spot beside Victoria.

"I forget just how beautiful the statuette of me is…more beautiful than me," said the real Victoria, patting her statuette's flowing hair. "Wow…and now it's complete, right?"

"Not just yet," was the sly reply.

"Oh…but everyone's here. Mom…Dad…Ginny…me and Lizzie and you…are you going to add a young man into my arms or something, so I won't be dancing alone?"

Roy grinned. "That sounds like a good idea…but not exactly what I had in mind." For a moment he thought of that crystalline statue he had transmuted back at the Hawkeyes'. He blinked a couple of times, and he was back in his bedroom, talking to one of his sisters. "Maybe when you get someone, I'll make a statue of him so you'll finally have a dance partner."

Victoria beamed. "Wow…that's so nice of you. But…that won't be for a while. After all, I am only sixteen going on seventeen…"

"Hopefully by that time, I'll be a much better alchemist," said Roy, suddenly realizing how slightly lopsided his miniature violin case and stack of books were and sighing wistfully. _Only less than two years to go…_

"You will, I know it. Now come on, before they get all the good stuff! Mom's made your favorite tonight…"

"Okay!" He let his older sibling drag him out of his bedroom and down the stairs, where the rest of the Mustangs awaited their return.

---

Exactly two years had passed since Perenelle Hawkeye passed away. She was buried in a cemetery a hop, skip and a jump away from Grail Lane, and today, her widower and their daughter paid their respects to her, standing before the headstone with bouquets of different kinds of flowers in varying colors, all of them Perenelle's favorites. The morning was cool, and the moon was still up in the sky.

"I can't believe…it's been this long…"

Mr. Hawkeye gripped Riza's little hand tightly and tremulously. Both of them were clad in black, and Mr. Hawkeye had even pulled his overlong hair back into a loose ponytail that was draped over his shoulders. Riza, on the other hand, wore the hairclip Roy had made for her on his eleventh birthday, and he briefly crossed her mind. Her mother would have loved to meet the boy, and not just because he was a budding musician…

Riza's father sniffed, drawing an off-white handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his watering eyes and nose. She didn't cry, but her expression was stoic, devoid of all emotion, Mr. Hawkeye's exact opposite.

"Your mother always…always loved my alchemy. She was very interested, probably because she lived much of her life in Amestris instead of in Ishbal. I remember…the first thing I made out of alchemy for her…"

He crouched down onto the grass, reached out for a fallen twig, and scratched a transmutation circle into the soil beside the grave after cradling the flowers he held in his left arm. All the flowers were brought down into the middle of the circle, and he beckoned Riza to do the same. Then he slowly touched the array, and watched the familiar golden glow of alchemy enveloping every last blossom. When it was done, Mr. Hawkeye lifted the wreath of flowers onto his wife's grave.

Drawing a couple of candles from his jacket pocket, the alchemist lit one and melted the bottom of the other. He then did the same until both candles burned brightly, one on either side of the wreath.

"Fire…her favorite element," he said, more to himself than to his daughter. But Riza heard him and understood.

"She loved watching the fire in the fireplace whenever we would light it when it gets really cold," she answered, watching the dancing twin flames. "But of course, she was careful not to get burned."

"I know," said Mr. Hawkeye. He felt Riza take his hand into both of hers, and he sighed, a small, sad smile forming on his lips.

---

"'_Over the years, alchemists have learned how to harness the four basic elements. The fifth, which is spirit or soul, can never be mastered by human hands and has forever remained out of reach. The consequences waiting for those who even try are dire, and often never spoken of even amongst alchemists themselves.'"_

"_I'm guessing…that's human transmutation, right?"_

"_That's right. Anyway, many people have discovered that they can have complete control over earth, which is the most often utilized element in alchemy, water, and even air. We can create an entire cornucopia of items from earth and the minerals and substances buried within it. Water can be shaped and bent to our will, divided into streams or united into great waves. We can even determine the flow and speed of wind, and the composition of the air. As alchemy progressed, its possibilities greatly increased."_

"_I know…it's just that many of my relatives believe that it is against Ishbala's will that we shape things to our own liking. The fact that people outside Ishbal still practice the Grand Arcanum – I mean, alchemy – must mean something, especially as those people haven't been destroyed by fire and brimstone as of late."_

"_Not yet."_

"_Oh, Nick, Ishbala would never destroy good people. He has a sense of justice."_

"_And you think I'm a good man, Perenelle?"_

"_Don't waste your breath and just call me Nellie. Haven't I told you that? And I don't think…I _know_ you're a good man."_

"_Really? Your mother and pretty much everyone on her side seem to think differently."_

"_That's because they see things differently. Don't let them get to you. Maybe it's just because they haven't gotten used to how we do things here. Even my mother, she insists that you be punished for what you've done in her home village. She tolerates alchemy…sort of…when we're here in Amestris, but when it's done around Ishbal, that's a different story."_

"'_Tolerates'? That's not as comforting as I'd like to hear."_

"_I guess it's because she says that when the time comes, all of Amestris will be cast into hell for their transgressions, and she doesn't care what they do, so long as they don't corrupt the Ishbalans."_

"_What about you, Nellie? Do you believe in hell?"_

"_Frankly…if Ishbala is such a loving god, why would there be hell? I imagine that anyone who has committed sins against him would have to pay the price, but after that they can join him in heaven. I can't think of permanent damnation…"_

"_Sorry, it's just that I'm not religious; Amestrians are not religious by nature."_

"_I know. But do I care?"_

"_If you did, you probably wouldn't have given a damn when I left your village after getting beaten up for an alchemic demonstration and receiving treatment in your saving hands. But no, I never knew that after that, we would meet again…fair, kindhearted Perenelle."_

"_Oh please, Nick. Anyway, I just thought of something while we were talking about hell…"_

"_What?"_

"_You mentioned alchemists eventually learning how to master earth, wind and water. Then talking about hell reminded me that you forgot one element – fire. What about fire? Can alchemy also control fire? It's such a fascinating thing…so beautiful, and we can't live without it, and yet it is also capable of destruction. It has always been something of interest to me."_

"_Well…technically, yes. Unfortunately, it is a very hard job; you need perseverance, patience, and most of all, the will. You need a strong, hard will to exert all your control, because fire is probably the wildest, most unpredictable element among the four – five if you count spirit. Fire is very useful; yet it can mow down many lives. Alchemists who have tried this kind of alchemy never escape without burns and scratches, and some…well, have met a fiery end."_

"_Oh dear…"_

"_I know. It's very tricky…but someday, science will find a way for us to finally tame this element. Then we will have control of all the elements – except spirit, of course. After all, it would be such a boring life if we could actually manipulate anything and everything."_

"_I can imagine. Anyway…it would be good if we did know how to control fire. I mean, so it won't be as dangerous as we know it to be."_

"_But the problem is, when we figure that out, there would be no doubt that many people will want that power…to destroy, to dominate, to pillage, plunder and kill. The military will seize it and use it to their advantage, to mow down countless people and force the country to bow to them…"_

"_Then surely the wielder of this power must be kindhearted and just. He or she must know the boundaries of such…be thou for the people, like you've always told me alchemists were…"_

"_Yes…"_

"_Like you, Nick."_

"_Huh?"_

"_I think you can handle that kind of power, since you're such a skilled alchemist, and you're a selfless one too. I mean, if you think about it, it was selfless of you to go out of your way to perform alchemy for the Ishbalans with nothing but good intentions, even putting yourself at great risk." _

"_You think I can…create_ that_ kind of alchemy?"_

"_Of course you can."_

"_You're just saying that."_

"_You know I'm not just saying that."_

"_You know something else?"_

"_What?"_

"_You're really something special, Nellie."_

---

He draped his black jacket onto his chair and plopped down morosely into his chair, staring at his desk, which was almost deluged in stacks and stacks of papers, notebooks, books and other miscellaneous things. Mr. Hawkeye reached out for a framed photograph that was almost hidden behind a couple of thick encyclopedias, and stared at it for a long while, not minding the peeling silver paint and the crack that was running through the glass that protected the photo inside.

It had been taken not too long after they had their talk about fire alchemy. The two of them were seated at the sofa at Perenelle's parents' house, smiling for the camera, with their arms around each other's shoulders.

Mr. Hawkeye knew, as he replaced the picture somewhere where he could look at it more clearly, that she never really expected him to actually create fire alchemy – after all, after that conversation, Perenelle barely mentioned it to him, especially not when Riza was born.

But still, because she had mentioned it, and because of the many possibilities that lay before him, seemingly taunting him, he was spurred to try, and he only became more determined after her untimely death. Now his fingers hovered over a small, yellowing sheet of paper that looked as though it had been torn from somewhere. He snatched it up and read it, bringing it an inch away from his face to understand the minute, slightly blurry script.

_Libera me, Domine, de morte æterna, in die illa tremenda, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra, dum veneris iudicare sæculum per ignem. Tremens factus sum ego et timeo, dum discussio venerit atque ventura ira. Dies illa, dies iræ, calamitatis, et miseriæ, dies magna et amara valde. Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis._

"What am I doing wrong?" he asked himself, slamming the paper down onto his desk and rattling many of the things precariously perched on the surface. "Why…"

He sighed. There were so few articles and documents on alchemic fire, all the references to fire he could find haven't been helpful so far, and it had been so long since anyone had tried such alchemy; every single prominent authority on the little information on fire alchemy was long dead. _What did _they_ do wrong? Was there something more? I know it can happen, it's possible…possible to control fire and use it for the greater good…_

_What are _we_ doing wrong?_

Burying his head in his hands and digging his fingernails into his now-free mane of hair and his scalp, Mr. Hawkeye racked his brain for answers. Perenelle's second death anniversary was not only a reminder to him that she would never come back, but that he remained so far away from the goal he hoped to achieve. He could still hear her encouraging, believing words…see her excited smile…feel her warm hands on his…smell the infusion of lavender and chamomile…

The alchemist snapped himself out of it.

And yet his goal had so many risks. For all he knew, others may be searching for something powerful, like his quarry, or lying in wait to take whatever he would come up with – assuming he _did_ come up with something. Plus, what if he died? What if his research – even parts of it – ended up in the wrong hands? He shuddered.

Mr. Hawkeye dug through a folder stuffed with several papers and pulled out a slightly crumpled sheet, mouthing the first three words to himself.

_Free me…Master._

A strange, rumbling noise interrupted his thoughts before he could even properly focus on them. He perked up and listened for the source of the sound, which seemed louder when he tried to look for it.

Apparently, he had been mulling over his fire alchemy research for too long, and his stomach was complaining.

He shoved his work aside and stomped out of his study, and in no time at all he stood in the dining room and kitchen, where his daughter was just about finished setting the table. No longer in a lacy black dress, Riza was in her usual shirt and shorts, but her hair was still pulled back from her face by the same marbled hairclip. Mr. Hawkeye wondered if the Mustang boy creating the clip had anything to do with her sudden change in hairstyle.

"Father, what's wrong?"

Realizing his face was still screwed up in concentration and frustration, he quickly rearranged it to a more presentable expression. "Oh…nothing, it's just that…well, I still haven't gotten close to…what I want. I mean…what I'm researching."

Riza nodded. "You mean that new kind of alchemy you want to create?"

"Yes…now, what do you want for dinner tonight? Perhaps we can have something your mother loved…would you like to help me?"

"I know you'll find what you're looking for," she reassured him. "And yes, I'll help you."

"Thank you…Riza."

---

The flames crackled and danced merrily in the fireplace, as though enticing anyone who saw them to dance along. The soft popping noises were almost lost in the deep, mysterious legato of a bow skimming across cello strings.

"We've been having some pretty cold nights, haven't we?" asked Victoria, pausing to turn the page of the book propped up on a stand in front of her.

"I agree," Elizabeth sighed, sinking deeper into her armchair as she turned the page of the book on Liorite history she was reading. "You know, Vicky, Ginny once told me that she wants the three of us to play during her wedding…and she still hasn't even found a boyfriend yet. Talk about planning ahead. And she even wants us to play _Andante Amestria_, her most favorite piece."

"That's one hell of a complicated song," her twin replied, squinting at the notes on the page she was looking at. "Hopefully by that time I'll be able to play it; it's a beautiful piece, really."

"Me, too."

Victoria blinked and glanced down on the carpet, where their brother was seated with an alchemy book and a sketchpad.

"You've been really quiet for a long while," she remarked. "And you've been doing nothing besides stare at the fire. Is there anything wrong?"

"Hmm…no, I'm fine," he mumbled.

"Well, I can't blame Roy for wanting to stare at the fire," said Elizabeth matter-of-factly, peering over her book. "It's a pretty sight, to be honest, even relaxing. And the discovery of fire was one of the biggest milestones of human history. If that hadn't happened…"

"Yeah, yeah, we all know that," said Victoria, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, I'll just keep on practicing." She started on her cello again. Elizabeth shrugged and went back to reading.

But while his sisters were busy, Roy continued gazing fondly at the flames…how they moved, how they crackled, how they kept him and everyone else warm. And yet, something of so much use could still be a dangerous force capable of taking lives as well as enriching them. He thought of that…he thought of that for a considerable length of time.

Unfortunately, the fact remained that in all of the alchemy books he had read, there wasn't anything significant about alchemy and fire.

_Guess alchemy does have its limitations…_

Plus, he wasn't a very skilled alchemist, not like Mr. Hawkeye. Fire was a very volatile thing, and didn't easily bend to a person's will – and he had seen much evidence of this; his mother's hands scalded from handling hot dishes, a match in his father's hand burning quickly even after he had lit candles, even the sound of Regine screaming as she tried to cook for the first time…

Not for the first time did Roy wish he could make time go faster, so he could start his alchemy lessons.

With a sigh, and finally shoving all his thoughts about fire into the very back of his head, he opened a book he had gotten on his eleventh birthday – _Why Transmutation Circles are More than Just Chalk Drawings_ – and followed the dog-ear fold to where he had left off.


	8. Play Date

Arthur Mustang's study was a spacious room that was closest to the gilded glass double doors that opened out to the Mustangs' back garden and gazebo, and had a window that gave the major general a good view of nature whenever he wanted one. And right now, he _needed_ one, after putting away so much paperwork.

He smiled and let out a long sigh of relief, idly tapping the windowsill and watching a periwinkle butterfly flutter by. There was nothing like the self-satisfaction that you only got after finishing a Herculean job and an inspiring slice of scenery to go with it…

There was a knock on the double doors that led to his study – a small one that could only be produced by a small fist. In fact, Arthur already had a very good idea as to who would come looking for him even before he got out of his comfortable black armchair and walked over to open one of the doors. As he unlatched it, pulled down on one of the gold-painted handles and pulled, the face and eventually the rest of his son came into view.

"Did I…disturb you while you were working?"

Arthur chuckled. "Oh, I'm done with it. You know how your old man wants everything done as soon as possible. Don't worry, Roy. So, what brings you here?"

"Well…I was just wondering…do you still have Mr. Hawkeye's telephone number?"

"I'll be damned if I lose it," said the general, scratching his head. "But why do you want it? You still remember what he said, right? He won't take you as his apprentice – "

"Until I'm thirteen, I _know_," Roy finished for him, with a slightly impatient bite. "And it's taking a while to turn thirteen. I'm not going to call _him_, anyway."

Arthur nodded. "I see. So…who do you plan to talk to? His daughter, I bet?" A much bigger smile than the one he had on before Roy came into his study began to form on his lips.

The boy gasped, feeling the familiar burning sensation in his cheeks. "_Dad_," he whined. "I just…wanted to invite her over to play. I mean, my sisters are almost always busy now. They can't play with me, and Mom's at work today, catering an important client's wedding. And…wait, you said you were finished with your work, right?"

"Yes, but I planned to have a little alone time to myself after so much filing and writing," said Arthur truthfully. "I do hope you don't mind, but here – I'll give you the number, and you can see if little Miss Hawkeye is free for a play date." He was about to head towards his mahogany desk when he paused in his tracks and turned back to face Roy, now wearing a somewhat skeptical expression.

"Tell me…you have so many friends your age, boys and girls alike. More girls than boys, even – "

"Dad!" interjected Roy. Arthur could see his son's face slowly turn a delicate shade of pink.

"But why do you want to invite your future alchemy teacher's daughter, someone you haven't even met…"

"We've met," said Roy quickly. "I found her at the park, only I didn't know she was Mr. Hawkeye's kid then. She told me when she passed by our mansion during my birthday, when she bought some stuff for her dad. She knows me. Her name is Riza, and she's…umm…seven. At least she was, the last time I saw her."

His father nodded, continuing on to his desk and opening a drawer. "Very well…and since I happen to be quite close to a telephone right now, I may as well make the call too. I wonder why neither you nor I noticed that…"

---

The telephone at the Hawkeyes' was still in dire need of repair, and yet it still didn't get any. Now, as it rang, the phone also made a rather unpleasant clanking and crackling noise that would disconcert any human being.

But Riza, unlike any other human being, was already used to the cacophony their phone caused whenever someone called up. So she marched up to the contraption, reached out with the hand that wasn't full of slingshot, and freed the receiver from its cradle, making a mental note to remind her father again about fixing the phone.

"Hello?"

"You wouldn't happen to be Riza Hawkeye, would you?"

There was something familiar about the deep voice that said her name – she had heard it before. This man had obviously rang their house at least once before. "Major General Mustang?" the girl guessed.

"Ah, you remember me! I must speak with your father once again, if you please."

"What does Mustang want from me now? I told him to wait till the boy is older!" Several shuffling steps told her that her father was out of his study and overheard her on the phone.

Riza answered Mr. Hawkeye's question by simply holding up the receiver for him to take and then slipping out of sight.

"Hello, Mustang."

"Hawkeye – Nick Hawkeye?"

"Did you see any other men in my house when you came by for a visit?"

"No…but…"

"Didn't I tell you that no matter how much of a pampered, princely prodigy your son is, I would rather take him as my apprentice when he's a bit older? Do I have to spell it out for you again, General?" grumbled Mr. Hawkeye through gritted teeth, his fingers gripping the receiver so tightly that his hand shook. "Or maybe you've changed your mind and have decided to recruit me for your little military after all?"

There was an uneasy silence on the other end, and he could hear the rustling of something – possibly paper – in the background.

"Actually, I only wanted to ask you if your daughter could pass by our house and…well, have a play date with Roy. He's pretty bored right now – no, wait – no, no, I assure you, Roy knows he has to wait until he's passed his thirteenth birthday – anyway, that's just why I called. Perhaps you would like some directions to our – "

Once again, there was a pause, this time on Mr. Hawkeye's end. He barely listened to whatever Arthur was saying, too lost in his own thoughts to speak. What kind of request was this? What were those Mustangs playing at _this_ time?

"Nicholas? Did you get the part about turning at Apple and Tidal?"

"What – oh – you idiot, I haven't even said yes yet!"

Arthur gasped. "Whoops, guess I was just a tad bit too excited! Is it all right with you – I mean, for our two kids to spend a day together? I assure you, we don't have guards around our place, but we promise to keep an eye on your daughter – scratch that, Riza _and_ Roy. What do you think?"

Mr. Hawkeye drummed his fingers on the receiver the same way Arthur did on his desk several moments ago before answering, "Well, I plan on doing a lot of research and experiments today, and I do hate for Riza to be bored while I work again. You see, she…well, doesn't have too many friends around. I guess it comes from living on a street like ours…there aren't a lot of children her age, or close to it, living here. But of course, I do have to ask if she would like to take a trip to your house. Or is that a _mansion_?"

"Oh yes, do ask her," was the reply, obviously sidestepping the last question out of modesty.

Cupping his hand rather poorly over the receiver, he called out, "Riza? Come in here, please."

"Yes, Father?" The answer came from the kitchen, and in stepped the girl, slingshot still in hand. It was already loaded with a smooth, shiny pebble, but Mr. Hawkeye trusted his daughter to not be risking any lives or breakable items for fun, human or otherwise.

"Listen…General Mustang is inviting you over to his house to play with Roy. You do remember Roy, right?"

Riza nodded. "Of course I do." Her father returned the nod after watching the sunlight streaming through a nearby window bounce off her glistening marbled hairclip.

"Well then…what do you say? Since I'll probably be very busy for the rest of the day, I think it would be a good idea. I'll drop you off and pick you up before sunset. And you know our number, right? So you can call me if you want to go home a bit earlier…or when something comes up." Mr. Hawkeye suddenly looked grimmer, as though the Mustangs lived in a condemned, haunted house instead of a beautiful mansion.

She didn't say anything for a while, the slingshot hanging limply in one hand. The pebble fell from the sling and clattered to the floor, the sound magnified in the silence as Mr. Hawkeye waited for her answer.

Riza prodded the stone with the toe of her shoe and frowned in thought. Even though he had known her all her life, he couldn't decipher what she was thinking and didn't know whether to hope that she would say yes or no.

Then she nodded.

"Okay, Arthur, she said yes," said Mr. Hawkeye into the phone, the tone of his voice as unfathomable as his daughter's face. "Start laying the directions on me now." He reached out for a pencil and a pad of paper, and began taking down the next several words he heard; only interrupting to ask about whether to turn right at Bard's Street or at Bard Street.

"And perhaps you two would like to stay for lunch as well?" asked Arthur, after giving the last of the directions. "I assure you, my wife may be the culinary connoisseur, but I can cook too! You can ask my – "

Mr. Hawkeye let out a barking laugh. "Don't worry; I'll bring an antacid just in case."

"Very funny, Nicholas…I'll see you later, then?"

"Sure, whatever you say…Arthur. See you then. Perfect timing, I must add, we finally got our car fixed. Goodness knows how many years it has been running…'bye."

There was a click as Arthur hung up, and Mr. Hawkeye did the same. As he did so, he raised an eyebrow and stared at Riza.

"Are you sure about this? You haven't known this boy for too long…"

The girl shrugged. "I have to give him his eleventh birthday gift anyway. I wasn't able to get him one when I passed by his party."

"And you're giving him a present too?"

"He gave me one…on _his_ birthday. I guess it's only fair. You always tell me about equivalent exchange, don't you? And how it doesn't just apply to alchemy?"

Mr. Hawkeye grinned and said, "You do have a point."

But in the deepest recesses of his mind, he couldn't help wondering if there was much more to her saying yes than equal trade.

Still, it didn't hurt for her to be friends with a boy he would be teaching alchemy to. In fact, it might just be a good idea for someone who didn't interact so much with other kids…

---

"Ah, Nicholas, I do hope you didn't find my directions confusing. And you may park your car in our garage; we've got room. It's supposed to be big enough for four cars, but we only have two, since we sold the third one and we've never felt the need to own four. I'll open up the gate so you can take 'er in. Oh, and Trisha – "

"Riza," Mr. Hawkeye corrected before his daughter could protest. "And I half-expected a butler to open the doors for me."

"Sorry," said Arthur, grinning sheepishly. "Riza, you can wait in the living room. Roy and his sisters are in the dining hall, setting the table and everything, but they might just pop in to see you. No, no, we don't have any maids or butlers, contrary to popular belief. We do all the housework on our own; we don't want to force our dirty work on others, much less depend on other people to clean our own house."

"Thank you, Mr. Mustang," she said politely.

Arthur smiled as he opened the double front doors for Mr. Hawkeye. "Such a polite girl," he mused. Then the doors closed behind the two men, leaving Riza to glance up, down and sideways as she took in the huge living room, which housed an entire variety of furniture and random items such as a large, comfy-looking couch, a grand piano which looked cleaner yet more used than their own, and a strange porcelain thing that looked more like fire than anything else.

After that, she walked over to the couch and flopped onto it, feeling herself sink slightly as it bore her weight. There were two matching armchairs on either side, which were just as well-kept and spotless as everything else. In fact, if Riza didn't know better, she could've sworn everything was brand-new and unused.

Maybe they were.

There were several books underneath the glass table in front of her. The first one she reached out for, out of curiosity, screamed, _The Mustang Family, circa 1885-1890 _in embossed golden script.

Glancing up to see if anyone came into the living room or even passed by, Riza began to turn the pages, each of which had several black-and-white photos. There was a picture of a woman – presumably Roy's mother – clutching her bulging stomach and smiling for the camera. Another one showed three girls, two of them shorter than the other and wearing matching dresses – even their faces matched. _Twins_, she deduced.

In the next picture, the same woman came up again with the three girls ogling the baby in her arms. A man in a military uniform stood beside her, and from the looks of his shoulder badges, he was a brigadier general – at least, back then.

There was no mistaking Roy, and Riza followed his development from a tiny infant to a waddling toddler with much fascination – and she stifled a little giggle when she came to one particular photo.

Even though it was pretty clear that Roy was male, he was dressed in a frilly, lacy dress with large bows, and there was even a ribbon in his hair. The twins were kneeling beside him, grinning toothily and clutching more sashes and ribbons in their hands. Someone stood behind them, but Riza could not tell who. Several more images followed, of Roy wearing different kinds of dresses, blouses and skirts. There was even one of him with his hair pulled back into tiny pigtails…

"Oh no…oh no, oh no, oh no…"

"Take it easy; she's just leafing through the – "

"The album with those stupid pictures of me with the girly outfits, not to mention those pictures of me with my bare baby – "

And without further ado, the album was snatched out of Riza's hands by a rather enraged Roy, whose face was so red that he could have been mistaken for a dark-haired tomato. But instead of glaring at her, he turned to the three girls – actually, two identical teenagers with different outfits and one young woman – who accompanied him like some parody of an entourage, or possibly a harem.

"Roy, honestly, that's not the way to treat our young guest, much less a little lady like her," said the tallest of the trio, who kept her straight face as she took the album from him. "By the way…you must be Riza Hawkeye. I'm Regine Mustang. It's a pleasure to meet you…I've heard quite a bit about your father. Our sisters here are – "

"I'm Victoria, but you can just call me Vicky," said the girl on Roy and Regine's left. Riza made a mental note to remember that Vicky was the one wearing a dark blue dress.

"And my name is Elizabeth – Lizzie or just Liz," said her twin in a more formal tone. She was clad in pink with touches of scarlet. "Anyway, Roy, Ginny's right. Come on, say sorry to her. It's no big deal…"

Roy clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, but when he turned to face Riza, his expression slowly softened, and his hands fell limply to his sides.

"Just…don't tell anyone," he muttered, his face still burning red. Riza didn't miss the last death glare he shot at his sisters. "I'm sorry."

The girl nodded, looking a lot more stoic than before. "That's all right…"

Still, Riza couldn't help smiling as she stood up and shook hands with the young Mustang women, and let them and Roy lead her towards the dining hall, a huge room completely separate from the kitchen, with a sparkling chandelier hanging overhead. As they all took their seats, they were soon joined by the two fathers, one of them bearing a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with shiny string.

"Happy birthday…Roy," said Mr. Hawkeye, offering the gift to him. "You can open it later; I'm starving, and I bet we all are. These are the rest of your children, Arthur?"

"I can't call them children anymore…ladies, actually, and a gentleman," said Arthur, swelling with pride. "This is my eldest daughter, Regine…she will be turning twenty-one next month. And the twins are Victoria – the one in blue – and Elizabeth, both sixteen. Girls, this is Mr. Hawkeye, soon to be Roy's alchemy teacher, and I think you've already met his seven-year-old daughter Riza."

"She's only seven?" Elizabeth whispered to Victoria. "I thought she was…well, Roy's age, or ten."

Vicky nodded. "Must be the look in her eyes…it makes her seem more mature. Dad and Roy did say that Mr. Hawkeye's wife's dead. Riza's probably been through a lot, losing her mom so early…"

"I do hope you don't plan to bore us all to death with your illustrious family history over lunch," said Mr. Hawkeye, unwittingly cutting the twin's sentence short.

Arthur laughed along with him and answered, "I wouldn't think of it, mind you…besides, there really isn't much to the Mustang roots. We're not as _special_ or _famous_ as some think. Well, what are we standing around for? Let's eat!"

---

The first thing Riza saw upon going out into the Mustangs' enormous backyard – which was more garden than yard, and could even be considered a small park – was a tall apple tree that bore quite a good amount of fruit. The sun was shining, and there was not a single cloud in the sky.

"What are you looking at?" asked Roy curiously. "The apple tree's nothing special; it's like all the apple trees I see outside. It's been around way before I was born. At least that's what my parents said. The biggest, reddest, juiciest apples are way up there, on the much higher branches. I can climb the tree, but I can't climb that high."

"Forget climbing," she answered, pulling her slingshot out of her pocket. Before Roy could say anything else, the sling was taut and she was already taking aim. Not too long after, the pebble loaded into it sailed skyward, creating an almost-perfect arc as it blazed towards the tree, and the two of them were transfixed, wondering what would happen next.

Besides making the leaves rustle and the branches shiver, the stone didn't do much until it landed with a distant plop onto the grass.

Riza sighed. "Oh well. But I can't always hit the target, right?"

"You didn't have to get an apple for me," said Roy, shrugging. "What gave you that idea to try and shoot down an apple?"

"I thought I'd try, since you made it sound like a challenge. And who said I was going to get _you_ an apple?"

He chuckled. "What else do you want to do? We've got a swing – right over there. My sisters used to swing me real high until they got too busy. It's not as fun when you're on your own."

At first, the boy paused, scratching his chin in thought.

"Want to swing?"

"Is it all right with you? After all, since your sisters are all grown up, it's technically _your_ swing now."

"Why else would I ask you?" said Roy, winking. "Come on." And he led the way towards the old yet still sturdy swing, which was not too far from the covered gazebo. With a sweeping motion, he gestured to the seat, and Riza stared at it for a while before slowly sitting on it.

Roy smirked and waggled his eyebrows mischievously. "You think I'm going to push it till you go all the way over the top, huh?"

"Like you're strong enough," she shot back, stepping backward and letting herself go. She and the swing moved a bit, though not as high as Roy would have liked, and when she began to slow down, the boy got behind her and gave her a shove. Riza soared higher, her hands gripping the ropes tightly and squinting through the gusts of air. She could no longer hide her excitement as Roy pushed her again and again.

"I'm strong enough!" he retorted as she swung upward again. "Try jumping off this time!"

"Swing me higher!" Riza challenged him. "I've jumped off swings before!"

"You sure you want me to do that?" He pushed her again, though not as hard as before.

"I think you're more scared than I am!"

"Oh yeah? Get ready!"

As she returned, Roy took a deep breath and threw as much of his weight as he could against her and the swing. Up and up it went, and for a moment he was afraid that the girl might fall off, or even worse – she'd really go over the top.

And Mr. Hawkeye would definitely think twice about having Roy as his apprentice if Riza got hurt…

He heard a thump, and his heart seemed to leap into his throat. But he relaxed when he saw Riza standing on the grass, quite a distance away from him. She swayed slightly, but kept her balance, turned around and waved at him, absolutely unharmed. The sunlight bounced off her clip – the one he had made for her, he noticed only now – and made him squint.

"Told you," she said. "Bet you can't jump farther than this." The girl squatted and arranged a few small rocks to indicate her spot.

"Of course I can! I'm older, bigger and I've got longer legs!" bragged Roy, hopping into the seat. "And I don't need you to push me, either!"

Riza stepped back and watched as he swung back and forth, obviously warming up. Then, just as she was about to fire another taunt, he fired himself off the swing, screaming something that sounded like a feral war cry. She followed him as he swooped down on the ground, and began to laugh when he toppled forward upon landing.

"Real nice," she said in between giggles.

"I still got farther, see?" Roy didn't get up yet, but pointed at his feet, which were a couple of inches away from the stones that marked Riza's landing point.

"I didn't fall like you did," was the quick reply. "Hey…"

Her playmate was now sitting cross-legged on the grass, drawing something in the soil with a twig. Riza walked over in time to see the familiar golden light burst forth, and the circle in the ground that was lit up by the reaction.

Roy held up the stones – which were no longer just a bunch of stones, but a small figure with its arms and one leg outstretched in some strange pose, as though it were trying to fly.

"What's _that_ supposed to be?"

"It's me, jumping off the swing! Which reminds me…I also have to make a swing, and I'll need some grass…"

Riza plopped down beside him, watching with interest as Roy uprooted several blades and placed them in the middle of the circle he had just drawn. Another flash later, there was a tiny model of the Mustangs' swing, complete with grass rope and a seat that seemed to be made out of grass roots.

"Well…you're getting better," she commented, stretching out a finger to move the swing. It did sway back and forth before gradually stopping, just like the real thing.

"But I want to do something more with alchemy, besides make things like these," said the boy wistfully. "I mean, great alchemists could probably make huge statues of themselves if they wanted to…but I want to do more. I've even made models of my family and myself – and you, when I went to your house. I used a glass and made a figure of you. I don't know why, I guess it was the first thing that popped into my head."

"I heard," said Riza. "And he gave it to me. He said it must mean something, how it looked like me."

Roy shrugged. "I dunno…I think it only means I was out of ideas then. Anyway…I want to do more. Hopefully when I start studying under your dad, I will. Who knows, I might be able to do things like…like controlling water, or maybe wind, even fire!"

She blinked, but managed to say, "Good luck with that. Who knows, you might actually grow up to be a great alchemist, like you said you would be."

"I'll be a great alchemist, you'll see!" said Roy, jabbing his thumb into his chest. "Then everyone will know my name, and they'll all say – "

"Say what?"

"Ugh…it's getting really, really bright. It's starting to hurt my eyes, even…let's go to the gazebo. It's shady there. I'll take my stuff with me too."

"Good idea."

In no time at all, the children had fled to the sanctuary of the gazebo, shading their sight and their heads along the way as the afternoon grew hotter. Roy laid the figure and the model swing on the table and asked, "So, what do we do now? I don't want to go back inside yet…but it's getting real toasty."

Riza took off her clip, winced at how her hair fell over one of her eyes, and put it back into her hair. "Hmm…this would be a good time to know why you were in girls' clothes in those pictures."

"You promise not to tell anyone, not even your dad, 'kay?"

"I'm no tattletale, Roy." She frowned at him and swung her legs back and forth as she sat on the bench. "Besides, we have nothing else to do; we may as well talk."

"What the heck. My sisters liked dressing me up in girly dresses and stuff when I was little. Of course, they stopped when my parents found out and told them about how it would confuse me when I grow up. You know, how I might grow up thinking I'm a girl like them. But they did tell me later on that they were going to stop anyway, because it would be much less fun with me as a girl than a boy. So that's pretty much the story. But I think my sisters just told me that to make me feel better and forget about it."

"But you didn't complain, apparently. You were smiling as though you were having the time of your life in those photos," the girl remarked, the slightest hint of a grin gracing her face.

"I was little back then, I probably didn't know anything!" interjected Roy. "Well what about you – always dressing up like a boy?"

Riza narrowed her eyes. "At least people don't mistake me for a boy. And I _like_ dressing this way. But I wear pretty skirts and dresses too!"

"All right, all right," said Roy, waving a hand. "But you know, I only said that 'cause I think you might look cute in a dress. Not that you're already cute…"

"You're just saying that," she answered, folding her arms across her chest. But she made no effort to hide her already growing smile.

"I'm – "

"He's saying what?"

Regine stepped into the gazebo, bearing a bowl of watermelon chunks and laying it on the hexagonal table before the children. A couple of forks stuck out from the bowl.

"It's getting really warm…but it's a lot hotter inside," she sighed, wiping some sweat from her forehead. "I took the liberty of cutting the watermelon for you two, and whether you use your forks or your hands is all up to you. But I highly advise _you_ to use a fork, Roy. Your white shirt turned red that day…very, _very_ red…"

Riza began to giggle as Roy's face took on the exact color of watermelon.

"_Ginny_!" he whined.

"Sorry, sorry," said Regine. "I'll disappear now if that's what you want."

When the eldest Mustang sister was out of sight, Roy turned to Riza, who took one look at him and grinned.

"At least my shirt became white again," he said, pouting and reaching out for one of the forks. "_Sisters_," he added as he speared a piece with great gusto.

"I'd like to have sisters," said Riza reflectively. "I'm an only child. My parents thought of giving me a sister or a brother…and then my mom died before they could decide."

The youngest Mustang sighed after swallowing a bite of watermelon. "I'm sorry. But my sisters are really annoying…they dressed me up in girls' clothes, but they also hid my toys, made me play the piano or the violin or even perform alchemy in front of visitors and relatives, and one time, they even made me _dance_."

Riza's eyes widened and her fork stopped halfway towards her mouth. "What kind of dance."

"Grown-ups' dance, where all the boys have to have girl partners," he said wryly. "I was with one of my cousins, and she kept on stepping on my feet. Still…" Roy paused, twirling his fork. "It _is_ nice having them around. I don't know what I'd do without them."

"So you didn't mind being dressed up like a girl then?"

"I was little, I probably didn't know! Don't make me throw this watermelon at you."

"If you do, I'm telling."

"I thought you weren't a tattletale."

"Only when I have to be."

"Fine, fine, but let's just go inside after this. Maybe we'd be better off inside. And Ginny would probably want me to bring the bowl and the forks in too."


	9. Watching a Hawkeye

The two children walked back into the mansion, wiping the sweat that was dripping down their faces and backs with a couple of handkerchiefs Regine carried in her pockets. In no time at all, they were back in the living room, and the first thing Roy did was run towards the piano and grab the brown paper package tied up with golden string on top of it.

"Well…tell me what you think of it," said Riza, leaning against the piano. "I…sort of helped Father pick out some gifts for you."

"Aw, you didn't have to," he replied, untying the string and tossing it onto the piano lid.

"Actually, I had nothing to do that day," Riza added, casually walking towards the large Mustang family portrait mounted on the wall. She looked over her shoulder and smiled when she saw Roy's outraged expression. The crackling of paper ensued, and if she had to guess, that expression would change pretty soon.

"Hey, I haven't even heard these composers' names before! Maybe except him, I know he composed _The Requiem_…and some other guys here…and are these new pencils? Thanks! Tell your dad thanks too…again."

Riza grinned slightly, turning back to him. "For a moment there, I thought we would end up giving you a piano book you already had. But Father highly doubted it; it's really old, and it goes way back when Mom was a little girl. Most of the composers who wrote the pieces were Ishbalan and didn't get much attention in Amestris as they did in Ishbal, Xing and Lior. And…glad you like it. And the pencils…he tossed them in too for drawing transmutation circles. Some of them are really thin, and the others are thick."

The youngest Mustang nodded. "I'm gonna use them next time I make another transmutation circle," he proclaimed, placing them neatly back into the box. Flipping through his new book, he said, "Oh yeah…you said once that _The Requiem_ was one of your mom's favorite pieces, right?"

"And you said you played it in your last recital," answered Riza.

"Umm…if you want me to, I could play it again…right now. And I'll get the notes right this time," he said, remembering the wrong key he had pressed when he and his father visited the Hawkeyes and feeling his face burn.

"Really?" The girl's eyes lit up, but then she switched back to her more stoic face. "I mean, you're not going to make any more mistakes? Prove it."

Roy hopped onto the bench and opened the book to the piece gingerly. Scooting a bit to the left, he patted the space beside him and looked at Riza, who simply stared back.

"Don't you want to sit down?" he asked.

She blinked. "Oh…all right," she said, taking the spot and accidentally bumping into him. Riza quickly moved a bit to her right and whispered, "Sorry."

Roy grinned – _smirked_ was probably more appropriate – raised his fingers over some of the keys, and brought them down for the first few notes. The alchemist's daughter watched in awe as his fingers skimmed across the keyboard, gently touching the keys one moment and passionately hitting them the next. Her ears were filled with the beautiful yet somewhat haunting melody that her mother had often played for them, and soon she found herself swaying to the music, and sometimes even shuddering at the more somber parts.

And what she noticed most of all was that Roy didn't make a single mistake. He pushed the pedals precisely, and chose his keys wisely. Everything sounded just as it should be, and for a moment Riza envisioned her mother, picking her up and seating her on the bench, choosing her next song, singing along when there were words…

He took his eyes briefly from the notes to look at her, which brought her back to the Mustang mansion. And as he crossed hand over hand several times for the finale and didn't miss a single beat, the girl found herself clapping, but stopped instantly when Roy smiled at her again.

"What do you think? Good enough for you?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

This time, Riza didn't think of a witty retort to wipe the grin off his face. Apparently, she found herself thinking of witty retorts less and less as she spent the day with him.

"Good enough," she answered. "Can you play it on other instruments? After all, my father did say you were a musical genius, besides an alchemic one."

"He said that?" said Roy, snickering. "Anyway…I can do the violin and the flute, but I don't know if I can also play _The Requiem_ on those…and I can sort of sing. Sort of," he repeated, seeing the disbelief written all over the girl's face. "I didn't say I was good as…say, my sister Regine. It didn't matter, so long as all of us knew an instrument and knew music. They're like that."

"I wish my mother was still here," Riza sighed wistfully. "She promised to teach me how to play the piano…"

"I'm sorry." Roy tapped a random key but didn't sound it. "Maybe…I could teach you a bit…you know. It's fun once you get the hang of it. What d'you think?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You'll teach me?"

"Yeah…but I can't teach you, like, _The Requiem_. You have to start from really easy songs, which are even easier than nursery rhymes." He stood up from the bench and beckoned Riza to do the same. When she did, Roy lifted the seat and revealed a compartment where many music books were stashed away. Some of them were yellowing and had seen better days, and quite a few showed more signs of age than the book Roy had received. After a bit of digging, he unearthed a small red book entitled, _The Keys to Piano: A Beginner's Guide_.

When he shut the bench lid and hopped back onto the seat, Riza hung back.

"I don't know…I mean, I've never played before…"

"Come on, it'll be fun," said Roy, opening the book to the first page and propping it up. When that was done, he stretched out a hand, but not before brushing the dust from it.

The girl gazed at his hand for a while, as though checking if it was still dirty, and slowly looked up at her potential piano mentor's face.

But at last, Riza took his hand, and climbed onto the bench.

"Okay then…let's start with the pitches…like do, re, mi…"

---

"Hey, Vicky, check this out."

"What?"

"Looks like our little brother's teaching our guest how to play the piano. Remember when we practically had to grab his fingers and plop them onto the right keys when he was only four? Then I lost my temper, Mom lost her temper, and we both ended up yelling."

Victoria peeked out from the kitchen, brushing the flour off her hands. "I see. Aw, that's really sweet of him. He never does that to any of his friends…you know, teach them stuff like that. Ginny, where are the cookie cutters? Where'd Mom say they were?"

"In the second cupboard from the left, the one over the oven," said Regine. "Where's Liz again?"

"Helping Mom find some new recipes to try out for dinner later…hopefully Mr. Hawkeye also stays for dinner. He seems like a really nice alchemist. At first I thought he was…well, pretty scary. I mean, with his long hair and the way he walks…it's like he's much older than he really is and even the way he smiles…" Vicky flung the cupboard open. "Oh, there they are. There's the star, the heart, the treble clef, the eighth note…"

The eldest Mustang daughter frowned as she rolled out the dough on the countertop. "Don't say things like that. Maybe it was because…well, we'll never get to meet Mrs. Hawkeye. How would _you_ feel if your husband died, Vicky?"

"Who said I'd look for a husband? I'm going to live on my own and be a professional actress." Her hands full of cookie cutters, Vicky walked over to where her sister was. "What about you? You're twenty going on twenty-one; lots of women start getting proposed to at that age."

Regine narrowed her eyes, but continued kneading the dough. "Oh, shut up. I haven't even met the perfect guy yet. But even if you don't want to get married, I will. And I'll make you and Liz my bridesmaids and Roy a groom's man…that is, when he's old enough. Otherwise, he'll be the ring bearer." She paused, her fingers tapping the dough and leaving her fingerprints all over it. "Speaking of Roy…I think he's got a little crush on Miss Hawkeye. What do _you_ think?"

Vicky giggled. "How cute!" she gushed. "Of all the little girls he knows…"

"It's ironic, in a way," said Regine, reaching out for the rolling pin. "All the girls chase after Roy, but this one doesn't seem to give a damn. Riza, I mean. Maybe that's what makes her stand out from the rest."

Examining the cutter in the shape of a heart, Vicky shrugged. "Just like in my favorite romance novel…where the hero is admired by so many girls, and yet the woman he wants thinks he's scum."

"Riza doesn't think Roy's scum," the young woman pointed out. "And I think I'm the only one who finds it weird how you like to read romantic stories, and yet you don't want to get married."

"I read romances, not create them," was the reply, as they cut the first heart-shaped cookie.

"You never know," said Regine, grinning. "You might actually be the first among us to get married. I don't know about Roy though…he's hell-bent on becoming an alchemist. I don't think marrying will be in his itinerary."

Vicky jabbed her sibling before the latter could form a quarter note-shaped cookie. "He's only _eleven_! Of course he won't think about those things yet! And Riza's only _seven_, which is much younger!"

"Okay, okay, can we talk about something else? Like how we have to make these cookies now?"

"Sure, sure, whatever you say. Hey – wait a minute, they stopped playing."

Regine turned to Vicky. "Huh? Well, they probably went up to Roy's room or something. It's quite strange…you know, when a little girl and a little boy run into a bedroom, it's considered cute, but when they're a little older, people start thinking that they'll…well, you get what I'm trying to drive at."

"Gin, you're the only person I know who can bring up things like that when we're baking cookies."

---

"You made those…all by yourself?"

Roy beamed as he arranged the figures of himself and his family on the floor. "I could make another one of you…like the thing I made back at your place. Hopefully I'll make it better than the last. Hold on a sec."

Riza shifted around where she sat on the floor, idly reaching out to feel each of the figures and watching the boy rummage through some small drawers on his desk. He returned after a while, his left fist tightly clenched and his right hand clutching a stick of chalk. Sitting down in front of her, he stretched out his arm and began to draw a circle, filling it in with lines and symbols before adding the items in his other hand, tossing them into the center. The pebbles, marbles and twigs clattered, and in no time at all they were lost in the familiar sea of golden light.

And as it all ebbed away, standing in the middle of the circle was a miniature Riza Hawkeye, her tiny slingshot pulled back and ready to fire. It looked almost exactly like the one Roy had made back at the Hawkeyes', except that the new one had a hairclip pulling her bangs back from her face, and she was clad in a lacy dress with a bow tie.

"Definitely better than the other," she said in approval, picking up the figure and turning it over in her hand. "Though I think you could've used much less lace."

"Sorry," Roy apologized. "I wanted you to wear a dress for a change. And I don't know what kind of dresses you wear exactly."

"But the clip was a nice touch," Riza added. "I'm telling my father about this, and all these things you made with alchemy. You're some alchemist, Roy Mustang."

"Didn't I already prove that when I took out the bullies for you?"

"I helped you, remember? If I didn't have my slingshot – "

The boy laughed sheepishly. "Okay, okay, I get the point. Anyway…hang on, give it to me." When she complied, he placed the figure into the group, just behind the model of him.

"Careful, you'd hit my head," he quipped.

"That was what I was aiming for," Riza answered back, a small grin playing on her lips. But it faded and she sighed. "Many of the neighbor kids are sort of scared of me when I go out with my slingshot. I mean, besides the bullies, and even some of them know that I can shoot pretty far. And I don't usually come out a lot to begin with. I stay with my father most of the time."

"Why?" Roy wanted to know.

"Ever since my mom died…well, Father hasn't been himself. I want to help him…and his dream…the dream he wanted to come true for the sake of my mom, because according to him, she was the biggest fan of his alchemy…"

His eyes widened. "Wow…I wonder what he wanted to do with alchemy…"

"That's for him and me to know and you to not find out," said Riza simply. "At least, not till you start studying under him, maybe, because he doesn't like saying a lot about whatever he's been working on. But he told me that he needs my help, now that Mom is gone. He said that I have an important part in his dream…even I don't know what exactly I will do in his dream. But whatever it is, I know I have to do it, no matter what."

Roy nodded, stroking the grooves in the miniature Riza's hair. "Are you also going to become an alchemist?"

She shook her head. "Didn't I tell you before that I'm not too fond of alchemy? If I was, then Father would have already taught me something.

"I could teach you," the boy said, shrugging.

Riza narrowed her eyes. "No…I know I won't be an alchemist when I grow up. I'll be – "

"Hey there, you two, we've got cookies baking in the oven and they'll be out pretty soon. If you want one, go ahead, but don't spoil your appetite because we're making dinner too – actually, Liz and Mom are. Riza, your dad called and he said that he'll come to pick you up, but he'll stay for dinner."

Vicky paused, taking a deep breath and looking at the models on the floor. "Wait – did you just add another one?"

"What's wrong with adding more? It means more practice," said Roy. He turned to the girl, who was looking at Vicky's figure on the floor. "Hey – d'you want to have some cookies?"

"Umm…sure."

"Come on, let's go! I can fix them later," he added, seeing Riza staring at his alchemic work.

Victoria had already gone ahead, but Roy hung back, as his playmate was hanging back. "Riza?"

"Oh. I'm coming."

She joined him, but for some strange reason, it seemed as though there was something she wasn't telling him.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Roy…just thinking of something," said Riza as they made their way down the staircase.

"Like what? Like…what your dad wants to do with alchemy?"

With a little frown that was more concerned than annoyed, she answered, "Don't think too much about it, okay? It's nothing."

"It sounds like something…hard," Roy commented.

"You're so annoying, you know that?"

He smirked. "No other girl besides my sisters ever said I was annoying – not to my face, at least. You're some girl, Riza."

"Since nobody will say you're annoying, then I'll say it. Well, I already said it."

"I don't know if I should be thanking you, or what," said Roy, his grin still intact. "Now come on, before Vicky, Lizzie and Ginny finish all the cookies! The last time they made cookies, I was taking a nap, and when I woke up, all of them were already gone!"

"Your sisters?"

"No – the cookies!"

But even though their conversation went back to lighter things like cookies and being annoying, Roy couldn't shake off the suspicion that there was much more to Riza Hawkeye than he thought. Sure, she was apparently the daughter of his soon-to-be alchemy teacher, she didn't have a mother, and she didn't hang around other kids much, but was there something else…was there?

What about her father? Was there more to him than a slightly eccentric but nonetheless skilled alchemist?

And more importantly, would whatever he would end up finding out about the Hawkeyes have any impact on his future in alchemy?

---

_Blame college. Like I do. XD_


	10. How Long is Long?

_The clock struck twelve times. _

_Outside, the world was asleep under the dark blanket of night. Inside, a little girl crept out of the bathroom, rubbing her eyes and brushing golden strands away from them. Stifling a huge yawn, she tottered back to her bedroom, but along the way, a bright flash of light made her stop in her tracks. For a moment, all she could see was blinding goldenrod. _

_When everything cleared, she followed the light, slowly climbing down the stairs, hands constantly gripping the banister, and tracing the flickering glow to a room. She took a peek and blinked as the last of the excess brightness ebbed away. _

_She knew this place; her father's study. It was strictly off-limits unless her parents said otherwise. But her childish curiosity won over her hesitation, and she continued to watch, making sure nobody saw her._

"_Fire…is too wild to be tamed. I cannot do this. It's so much easier to repair the plate I broke awhile ago. Why am I chasing such a futile dream, something that more skilled alchemists have learned to leave alone? I'm too stubborn for my own good…an admirable trait and an annoying habit at the same time…"_

"_Don't give up, Nick. Maybe now is not yet the time…"_

"_Then when will it be, Nellie? You know how long I've worked and waited…"_

"_No one but Ishbala knows. I know you really want to finish this." _

"_Of course I do!" The man stood up from where he was crouching down on the floor. In front of him was a large, chalky runic circle, and he was pointing to it with the stick he had used to draw it. Beside him was a woman as tall as his shoulders, and she placed an arm around his waist before taking his chin into her hand and gently kissing his cheek. He blushed, scratching the back of his neck before opening his arms and hugging her tight. _

_Perenelle smiled. "I'll help you, no matter what. Remember that."_

_Meanwhile, the girl flinched at this sudden display of affection and made a disgusted noise – but unfortunately, her reaction gave her away, and they instantly saw her little face through the doorway. They both gaped in surprise, but it was Nellie who walked over to her, reaching down and picking the girl up._

"_Riza…what are you doing up at this time? It's way past your bedtime," said Nellie, the corners of her mouth moving up in an amused smile. _

_Riza pointed upstairs, attempting to zero in on the general direction of the bathroom._

"_Oh…I see." But she didn't know if Perenelle did see or not. _

_Nick ruffled the girl's blond hair, the same shade as his own. "Okay, now that you've done your business, you can go to bed now. Come on."_

_He accompanied Perenelle as she carried Riza up the stairs and back to her bedroom, but just as the woman's brown hand was an inch away from the doorknob, Riza tugged at her mother's nightgown collar. _

"_You said you were gonna help Daddy," she said curiously. "You're gonna help him with his work?"_

_Nick found himself grinning along with his wife as she replied, "Yes…why?"_

"_Well…I wanna help too. I'm gonna help you and Daddy. Can I?" asked Riza, her lips curling into a child's typical expectant, stubborn pout. Nick had to stifle a laugh and put on his straightest face, but it was Perenelle who answered for him._

"_We'll see in the morning. But for now, you need your sleep."_

---

It had been a few years ago, back when Riza called her father "Daddy" instead of "Father", as she did now. That was how long ago it was. But the scene was still fresh in her mind, as if it had just happened last night. And now, she thought of it again, as she passed by Mr. Hawkeye's study. Since they already had dinner at the Mustangs', he instantly trooped into his workplace, shutting the door behind him and telling Riza a hurried "Good night."

Glancing at the old grandfather clock in the hallway, she saw that it was only a few minutes past seven – too early for her bedtime.

Still, it wasn't the first time that happened.

The corridor ended in their living room, and the first thing the girl saw was the piano, covered once again after Roy had played one of her favorite songs on it when he and Major General Mustang paid her father a visit. She was seized with a strong urge to sit and recalled the little lesson she had with Roy that afternoon, and she took a step towards the piano, ready to whip off the thick checkered cloth…

But Riza thought of her father next, holed up in his study again, working on his alchemy again.

These days, he seemed to work harder and longer, to the point that she often had to coax him out to eat, like a timid stray. The piano could wait, anyway; it was always there for her to play whenever she felt like it. And maybe, if Roy became Mr. Hawkeye's apprentice in the near future, he could teach her more…

She pouted and banished that notion from her mind. After all, many children, after enjoying the piano in their younger years, leave it to pursue more important matters when they grew older. Roy would probably be too busy learning alchemy to touch their piano again, anyway. Then Riza turned on her heel and made her way through the corridor once more, heading for only one room in particular.

The door suddenly opened, and she stopped in her tracks as the alchemist emerged, wiping sweat from his brow and clutching half a candlestick in one soot-blackened hand. His breathing was hard and fast, and sweat dotted his forehead.

"Father, are you all right?"

He turned grim gray eyes towards her and attempted a crooked smile. Dropping the candlestick, he knelt on one knee and placed his smudged hands on her shoulders, and almost laughed at the look of aversion that briefly crossed her face.

"Oh, Riza…you're so much like your mother, worrying like that. Besides needing a bath, I'm fine."

"You do need a bath," she answered with a straight face before adding quickly. "But…do you need any help? I mean…with whatever you're doing…"

"So much like your mother," Mr. Hawkeye repeated. "Listen, it's all right. You don't have to worry about things I worry about." He raised a hand to ruffle her hair, but she stepped back, watching the ash smeared all over his fingers. But his smile disappeared when he heard her speak again.

Riza twisted the hem of her shirt. "I want to help you…like Mom wanted to. Especially now that she's…"

"I know. But not right now…I'll call for you when I need help. And I'll clean up when I'm done, don't worry."

As he picked up the candlestick, which was already dotted with many dark fingerprints, he watched her retreating back and sighed, smiling again.

---

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost, Lizzie, and why are you so excited to go to a little girl's birthday party, anyway? You were never into these kinds of things to begin with, anyway. Ooh, wait I know…you just want to see Samuel Saint-Claude, don't you?"

"Stella's older brother, right?"

"Ginny, don't you get it? Lizzie's IN LO-OVE – "

Victoria gasped and attempted to prize her twin's hand off her mouth. Regine stifled a snicker, earned matching glares from her sisters and decided to focus on their brother, who was too busy staring out the window to notice the scene.

"Roy?"

"What?"

"What's wrong? You look like you're about to be marched off to your execution."

He pouted and crossed his arms. "I don't wanna go to Stella's party. She'll just force me to play the violin and the piano, make gifts for her using alchemy, or even sing those stupid songs with her…those really, really stupid ones with the really high notes. And all her friends are gonna do the same."

Olivia heard her son and turned around from the front seat.

"Is it really that bad, playing with your little friends and seeing them again after a while?"

Roy shot her a look that really did remind them of someone about to be marched off to his execution. But before she could react, Arthur spoke first as he turned the steering wheel.

"All right, we're here – the Saint-Claude estate. I'll just park the car…"

At those words, Roy's expression changed into one that told them that his executioner had already arrived.

---

"It's not fair! Roy should sit beside me!"

"I'm the birthday girl, so he stays here, with me. And I'm gonna open his present first before yours, Penny, so there!"

"Don't you know how much my mom paid for that green dress with all the fancy ribbons and laces and beads?"

"Nice going, idiot, you totally gave away your gift."

There were times when Roy actually enjoyed the attention the girls often showered him with. But these days, it was just getting on his nerves, and Stella and Penny grabbing each of his arms was not helping one bit.

"Umm…it doesn't really matter where I sit," he said slowly, trying to break free and break up the fight, to no avail. The only boy in the group hurriedly began to scan the premises for anyone who could help him – even the other boys who were clustered in a small group, but they didn't appear to notice that one of them was caught in a terrible crossfire.

Thankfully, Elizabeth passed by them at that moment, her arm in a young man's. Like Stella, he had piercing green eyes and wavy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and he seemed to be laughing at something Roy's sister had said.

Roy stared desperately at her, hoping she would notice, and she did.

"It's quite crowded there, don't you think?" said Lizzie nonchalantly, breaking away from her companion and heading for her younger brother, who was instantly relinquished by the girls. "Mom and Dad are looking for you and want you to sit with them for a while. You can play with your friends later."

"Does she really mean it, Sam?" asked Stella, pouting. "I really want to – "

"I think she means it, and if she doesn't, I'll teach Miss Elizabeth Mustang here a lesson on keeping promises," said Sam, winking and receiving a nudge from Lizzie. "Ouch, what was that for?"

Steering the two boys away from the girls' table, Lizzie answered, "I don't need a lesson in keeping promises. Speak for yourself; you promised to write to me when we met during Roy's eleventh birthday."

"You do realize my parents want me to get into the Military Institute of Amestris, and that would mean working my behind off! So, we'll drop your brother off at your parents' and sisters' table?"

"Yes…honestly, Roy, you should consider yourself lucky, always the center of attention. When you're older, I can't always bail you out like that, and don't even think about asking Vicky or Ginny, or Mom and Dad."

He glared at Lizzie and wrenched his hand away from hers, but continued walking beside her. "No way, they always want me to do things for them and they think it's real awesome to be sitting beside me and holding my hand and stuff like that. I know that when everything's over, they're gonna take me to the music room where they'll make me play all their favorite songs and fix their broken toys."

"Fix broken toys?" repeated Sam curiously.

"Roy's a budding alchemist, remember?" said Lizzie, her eyes twinkling as she turned to speak to him. "Okay, Roy, you can hide here…but you're on your own later. I have a life too."

"A life you'll spend making out in Samuel's bedroom!"

Cheeks glowing brilliant red, she turned to her twin and hissed, "One more word, Vicky, and I swear…"

"Elizabeth, Victoria, _please_," whispered Olivia, wagging a finger at them. "You two know better than that."

"If it weren't for Liz – hey, that flirt, she's gone!"

"Let her," said Regine, fanning herself delicately and catching the eye of a redheaded young man at a nearby table. Roy slipped into the empty chair beside her with a relieved sigh, and caught the eyes of his parents.

Arthur blinked. "Ah, Roy…I thought you were with your friends."

"Were you and Mom looking for me?"

Olivia and her husband traded a surprised expression, and she answered, "Not really…why?"

"Lizzie just used you as an excuse, I guess," said the boy, shrugging. "The girls were…well…I'd rather not talk about it. Is there a library around here?"

---

Even though he was fairly sure the girls were still back at the party, Roy still glanced both ways as he strolled down the corridor that led to the Saint-Claude library. His parents had told him that the Saint-Claude clan wasn't exactly a clan of alchemists, but he didn't care; maybe there was a stray book or two about even basic alchemy he could immerse himself in and well away from those annoying –

He gasped as a pair of large, tan hands grabbed his collar, just a few steps away from the double doors he was about to reach out for. His toes were brushing the floor, and he was staring at a boy probably twice as heavy as he was, and who resembled those gorillas he saw in one of the encyclopedias Lizzie constantly picked off the Mustang shelves. A couple of wiry boys who reminded Roy of some reptilian creature – either a lizard or a crocodile, maybe even both – flanked this big one.

"That's him – that's the Mustang boy, always getting the girls – "

"Ooh, you're in trouble now, you're really gonna get it unless you stay away from – "

Roy struggled in the grip of the apelike one, who remained silent. "Stay away? That's what I've been trying to do all day! You want them? They're back there!" He jerked a thumb towards the party and scratched at the hands that still held him. "You're wasting your time!" And then he bit down as hard as he could on the nearest fat finger he could reach.

With a yelp, he let go of Roy, who scampered away while the two others scrambled around their companion, who was whimpering, tears streaming down his face. _What a baby,_ thought the youngest Mustang, as he rounded a corner and bolted down another corridor, well aware that they would probably still see him if he ducked into the library. This new corridor had no other doors besides a bright, curling gate at the very end, which he pursued and pushed open.

The first thing he saw was sunlight; dazzling rays that filled every inch of his vision, temporarily blinding him. But everything cleared instantly, and he heard the rustling grass under his feet, saw the many trees, bushes and other plants scattered all over the verdant expanse, and smelled several scents of different flowers mixed with that of a fresh lawn.

He slowed down to a walk as he explored, taking in the carved marble benches that seemed to be under every tree, the different fountains that splashed simultaneously, and the few but extremely spacious gazebos painted to match the mansion's color scheme. For a moment he thought of running away from the party.

Another moment later, Roy was walking up to the guard that stood by the second, larger and more elaborate gate that led to the outside world. Maybe there was a nice bookstore he could stay in; he saw one on the way to the Saint-Claude manor…and those boys, whoever they were, would not find him…

"Whoa there, mister…kids like you shouldn't be leaving without their parents or legal guardians," the guard chanted, as though he had memorized a rulebook of sorts – and got bored with it. "Besides, isn't it a bit too early for that?" he added, checking a small bronze pocket watch that was becoming quite tarnished in places. "And it's for your own good."

"Oh," said Roy, staring down at his shoes and looking every bit the disappointed youngling, but deep inside he wanted to blurt out to the man that being fought over by girls, fawned over by adults and fought by other boys wasn't for his own good either. "I see." He walked away, hands in pockets, head bowed down.

And the guard bought every bit of his act, and didn't notice the boy quickly duck behind a large bush bearing dozens of tiny, perkily pink flowers and pull a piece of chalk from his pocket.

---

"I thought I saw some light," said a woman whose graying black hair was pulled back into the tightest bun possible, her teacup a fraction of an inch away from her lips. "And, I thought we wouldn't have to worry about the hubbub back there while we're here. Don't tell me we'll have to choose that other gazebo, which is farther but is in need of some repairs."

"It is quite a bright day today."

"No, actually, if I'm not mistaken…that looked like an alchemic reaction. But none among the Saint-Claude family is an alchemist, right, Aunt Susan?" A much younger woman shrugged and looked at all her comrades before adding, "Please pass the cream."

The one called Susan obliged before replying, "Then…perhaps it was one of the Mustangs. Olivia has been telling me that one of her children has become quite the prodigy. Imagine, only eleven…"

"But why?" asked her niece. "I mean…"

"Maybe he's just showing off to his little friends," said Susan fondly, smiling. "He may be smart, but he _is_ still a child."

---

Roy scowled.

Standing beside him was what seemed to be a boy a little more than half his height, made out of dirt, fallen twigs, dry leaves, and a few stray blades of grass. If it had facial features, it looked like they had all been warped and melted into each other. Its arms were stuck to its sides, and its legs were fused together, as though his creation had only a single overlarge leg.

In frustration, he punched it in the face – or at least, where its face would have been. The head topped right off the neck as if severed by a sword, and rolled in the grass, coming to a stop at someone's feet.

"Tried to trick me with alchemy, didn't you, boy?" The guard grinned, picking up the head and examining it like an archeologist with an old skull. "That's really something; being able to do alchemy at your age."

"What's it to you?" asked Roy, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms across his chest. "And aren't you supposed to be at your post?"

"It happens to be the end of my shift, young man," the guard answered. His free hand twitched, as though he wanted to ruffle Roy's hair but decided against it. "And this is quite impressive. Though of course…you've got a long way to go if you want to get past me with this."

He tossed the head towards the boy, who caught it and watched the guard walk back to the gate that led to the mansion. Meanwhile, Roy stared into where the head's eyes could have been.

"I know," he said to it.

_And how long _is_ long, anyway?_

---

_Wow, that's a lot of breaks there. XD Sorry 'bout the delay, folks. College._


	11. The Gift of Giving

_Happy holidays, everyone! And on that note, here is a (belated) holiday-themed chapter. Kind of like a "filler"…and then again, maybe not. _

---

The days eventually became colder and colder, and the ground was often buried in a blanket of pure white. Ponds and creeks froze over and became infested with ice skaters, leafless branches were rimed with frost, and the frequent winds simply made everything more frigid. But despite all this, brave neighborhood children decided to bundle up, take up their shovels, and ring every doorbell in order to earn some extra money.

One of their top picks was the Mustang manor, for its wide, snow-covered path that either had several kids shoveling it at once or bickering youngsters who often had to be shooed away by embarrassed parents or older siblings. Plus, Arthur and Olivia Mustang were known for tipping well, and each hardworking boy and girl eagerly awaited the handful of coins that made all the snow shoveling worth it – and if it was extra cold, the children were often invited inside for some hot treats that Olivia and her daughters were famous for.

And for the little girls, just a single glimpse of Roy Mustang was reward enough, and even when they were finished, they often lingered to see him.

Today was no different.

"I bought you a gift with some of the money I earned shoveling snow!"

"He probably won't like it, you know. What do _you_ want, Roy? I'll buy you anything you want; I have more money than Laila!"

"Oh, shut up, you're not supposed to ask him, it's better for it to be a surprise!"

"Uh, I'll get the cookies for you…hey, who ate the last cookie?"

"Here are more cookies," said Regine, smiling as she brought the children another full plate. To herself, she mused, "There are a lot of girls today…"

But whether or not Roy heard her, he suddenly stood up from his chair, startling the others who were reaching out for the second batch of cookies, still warm from the oven. "Uh…I think I'll go help Vicky and Lizzie in the living room." he said abruptly after swallowing hastily.

"Don't you want another cookie?" asked the girl called Laila, offering one.

"Thanks, see you!" he answered, grabbing it out of her hand and scrambling for the living room.

Regine stared at the girls, but they didn't seem to notice how in a hurry he was to get out of the dining room. They returned to the cookies and chocolate, not to mention raving about Roy behind his back.

---

Lizzie frowned at the invitation, and held it up for her twin to see. "What do you think? I spelled the name right, right?"

"Right."

"You're not even looking," Lizzie complained.

"Check the guest list," muttered Vicky, painstakingly cutting a length of pale pink ribbon. "You can read anyway."

Her sister opened her mouth to fire a witty retort, but it was lost when Roy came into view and asked, "Can I help with the invites to Ginny's twenty-first birthday party?"

"Actually, it's not just her birthday," Lizzie pointed out. "This year, it's also our annual winter party."

"By the way, Dad's decided to invite Mr. Hawkeye and Riza too, in case you were wondering," Vicky added with a sly grin, glancing up and triumphantly clutching two equal pieces of ribbon. "Okay, Liz, here's one for that card we'll give to the Raven family."

"Really?" asked Roy, sitting down beside Vicky. But even though he quickly rearranged his expression into something more stoic, his sisters had already seen his eyes light up.

"I knew you'd like that," she replied, winking and watching patches of pink flower on his cheeks. "Riza's probably the only girl you really talk to these days…besides us, of course, but we don't count. Or maybe you're only doing that because her father's going to be your alchemy teacher someday and it would help to get on his good side…"

"I'm not, don't be silly. Besides, I think Mr. Hawkeye would have figured it out if I did," said their youngest sibling, rolling his eyes and going over a stack of already finished invitations. "What can I do?"

Lizzie pointed to the guest list. "You can start by handing that over here. Do you still have some glue up in your bedroom?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"We need more glue," Vicky answered for her twin. "If it's not too much trouble…but if you don't have any, you can always ask Dad. He's in his study, I think."

After giving the list of names and addresses to Lizzie, Roy headed for the staircase and took the steps two at a time, and entered his bedroom. He quickly strode over to his desk and began opening and closing drawers, peeking in shelves and closets, and even peered under his bed.

But when he stood up again, he caught sight of figures lined up on a shelf, and he scanned them till he got to the one at the very end, a little girl clad in a dress and aiming her slingshot at a boy standing close to a transmutation circle.

At first, he stood there, staring at the model of the girl.

Then without further ado, he ran back to his desk and began his search anew.

---

"Damn it, there goes the rest of the glue. Where's Roy, anyway?" asked Victoria, holding up a ribbon to a finished card. "Do you think we could've just stuck to red instead of pink? And thanks so much for volunteering to write everyone's names and addresses; I guess I was wrong when I told you that having fancy handwriting would be useless in the real world."

"Ginny prefers pink, if you remember," said Elizabeth, turning a pen over and over in her fingers before writing on another invitation. "And you, sister, make chicken scratch look like the most wonderful characters in the world."

Her twin smirked. "Oh, Lizzie, you flatter me so." But her smirk instantly faded when she added more seriously, "We need glue, and we need it now. What's taking him so long?"

Lizzie shrugged as she continued writing, and finished off an invite with a flourish. "Ah, this one's done. Want to go check on him? We can't do much without the glue, anyway. And Ginny's probably still in the kitchen, cleaning up after all those snow-shoveling kids, and after that…"

She didn't get to finish her statement as Vicky jumped to her feet, grabbed her sister, and the two of them ran for the stairs.

"You could've warned me, don't just drag me like that! It's not like this is a life and death situation, is it?"

"It is if we don't finish the invitations in time, Liz!" said Vicky, relinquishing her grip on her twin's hand as they climbed the stairs, and stomped down the hallway. When they got to a door, they threw it open together – in time to be blinded by a blaze of light.

Lizzie shaded her eyes and remarked, "You know, if your room is that much of a mess, you could have at least asked us to help you."

"My room is not a mess!"

As the glow died away, they saw Roy sitting on his heels on the floor in front of a large transmutation circle. Several books were open in front of him, and beside him was a pile of something that neither twin could recognize. But as they stepped inside, they could see that the pile was actually made of several deformed and warped figures, and the one – actually, two – in the middle of the circle were much better than the rest; a little boy offering a shorter girl a gift. Both were wearing what looked like thick coats, and the platform they were standing on looked as though it was covered with snow.

He looked at his sisters before looking down at his latest creation.

"The glue's on my table…"

"Don't you know we're working under time pressure here, Roy? If we don't finish the invitations, they won't get to the guests in time, and they won't be able to go to our party, and Ginny will be totally devastated! Did you forget that you were supposed to be helping us, instead of making another one of your – "

Elizabeth gripped her sister's arm, and Vicky stopped, taking several deep breaths. She broke away, crossed the room and grabbed the bottle of glue on her brother's desk.

"Vicky, don't worry so much," said her twin. "You know, that's my job."

"I'm sorry," said Roy, turning the statuettes over and over in his hand as though they were the last things he would ever create. "I guess…I forgot something…"

Victoria's expression softened and she passed the glue to Lizzie. She then sat down beside him and placed an arm around his shoulder.

"You wanted…to give Miss Hawkeye something for the holidays, right? The girl looks very much like her. I just wish she would wear dresses like that more often."

Roy nodded, turning away so his sisters wouldn't see him turn a soft shade of pink again.

"Lizzie and I can work on our own," said Vicky slowly, embracing him. Her twin did the same after plopping down on his other side.

"Actually, I'm done," said the boy, smiling and standing up. He opened his closet and placed his masterpiece inside before turning to them and saying, "I can help put the invitations into the envelopes and mail them. I'll ask Dad where the stamps are. After all, it's not too cold today."

"Okay," the girls said in unison.

"And can you two get off me? There are such things as personal space and being too warm, you know!"

---

The store was crowded, not only with shoppers but also people seeking warmth from the cold. It was also noisy, with parents yelling for their children, salesmen yelling for customers, and customers yelling at the staff, and it smelled of all sorts of odors that ranged from overripe fruit to sweaty bums. Every now and then, someone would bump into the man and girl weaving in and out of the aisles, whether accidentally or intentionally.

"Don't let go of me, Riza. You could get lost."

Even if her father had not reminded her, she was too wary of the unnerving mob to wander off on her own…and yet, she felt the compelling urge to.

"Father…"

"We won't take too long. I just have to find a few things…hey, watch it!"

A rather hairy, stocky man glared down his minuscule glasses at Mr. Hawkeye. "Watch yourself, you moron!" Then he pushed past him, almost knocking Riza's father into a shelf of bottles of water.

When he had recovered, the girl stared up at him and said, "It's just that…I have to find something too. I – have my allowance with me so you don't have to pay for it."

"And what might that be?"

---

"Umm…we turn at the corner…and then that's the place. That really bright building over there."

"Right," muttered Mr. Hawkeye, swerving and cursing inwardly at a reckless biker. "By the way, about that gift you picked out…he could already have one, maybe even a lot of them – hang on, is this it?"

"Yes, that's it…we can park over there, right?" 

After parking, they stepped out of the car to survey the _Golden Goblet_, a restaurant that sparkled and shimmered so much that Riza had to briefly shield her eyes with the gift she clutched, and all the light seemed to warm them up on that blustery evening. She then let her father lead her to the front doors, where a concierge and a security guard watched them as though expecting the Hawkeyes to rob them. To satisfy them, Mr. Hawkeye drew from his coat pocket a glossy invitation with a bit of lace and ribbon.

_You are cordially invited to Regine Alexandrina Regalle-Mustang's 21__st__ birthday celebration and the Mustangs' annual winter holiday party at the second floor of the _Golden Goblet_ on the 20__th__ of December, from 6PM to 11PM._

_Attire is formal_

_RSVP not required_

_Address, contact numbers and map are attached_

The guard and the concierge traded a look, but they let Mr. Hawkeye and his daughter in anyway, taking their coats for them. When Riza turned around, she saw the guard whisper something to his companion, and the two of them inched away from each other as though they had not been whispering about anything at all. She thought nothing more of it and followed her father up the winding staircase to see just how flamboyant this birthday celebration would be.

Needless to say, the two of them were blown away by the splendor that awaited them on the next floor.

Riza could not remember the last time she had seen so many tables, all covered with immaculate white cloth and topped off with vases overflowing with carnation roses, vigil candles, and confetti. The chairs were adorned with soft pink ribbons that matched the streamers over their heads and bordered the enormous banner over the dais that screamed, _Happy 21__st__ Regine Mustang_ in sparkling golden script. And before either of them could take a step towards the nearest table, a man in a dashing, dark gray suit stepped before them, adjusting his black tie with one hand and offering them the other.

"Ah, such a pleasure to see you, Nicholas…come, sit at our table, we've got some extra chairs for you…the gifts for Ginny go on the rectangular table beside ours…we'll be serving dinner quite soon, and then the program will begin…"

After beckoning the Hawkeyes to tag along with him, Arthur began weaving in and out of the maze of tables and chairs, occasionally pausing to wave at a distant guest or more.

"Major General, you're looking quite dapper…is it evening yet? Oh, yes it is."

"Arthur, we're here, in case you didn't see us…"

At last, they got to the table, and Mr. Hawkeye was content to plop into a chair after adding Regine's gift to the rapidly growing pile, in time to see the twins arrive and hear them arguing about something.

"That Armand Noir is such a fribble!"

"A what?"

"He's a fribble, a superficial, ostentatious idiot!"

"Armand is not an idiot, Liz, you know that! Come on; don't be so hard on the boy, even if he did have to ask help from his older brother when his bowtie came undone…"

"Girls," said Arthur testily, "say hello to Mr. Hawkeye and Riza, at least. And you two better watch your mouths. Armand might hear every last word you're saying about him."

Victoria shrugged and answered, "Actually, he said something about finding the nearest bathroom. He can't hear us from there." Adjusting her blue, heart-shaped pendant, she glanced at Mr. Hawkeye and said together with her sister, "Hello, Mr. Hawkeye."

"So, where's the celebrant?" asked the alchemist, picking up one of the pieces of confetti.

"I daresay she's with her mother, getting herself fixed up," said Arthur. "She desperately wants to look her best on her special day, especially with that escort of hers." With a grin that could only come from a proud father, he added, "Her escort is Rupert Regis; quite the outstanding young gentleman, I might add, and will take over his family business someday…"

"And where's the boy?" Mr. Hawkeye interrupted, scanning the vicinity. "I don't see him running around."

Arthur chuckled. "Oh, Roy's backstage. I mean…at the back of the dais. Not as big as a real stage, but it has a backstage area, nonetheless…"

"He's probably practicing his piano piece," Elizabeth put in, nodding at the piano on the dais before pulling out a novel from her crimson purse and turning it to a page marked by a pink hair ribbon that matched many of the decorations. "I mean, since he's the first performer." She looked at Riza and said rather casually, "You want to see him? It's all right, there's a door over there…but he'll probably alchemize you if you disturb him."

Before Riza could answer, Mr. Hawkeye said, "Oh, if he tries to alchemize my daughter, I'll never take him as my apprentice. I know that."

The twins and their father laughed as Riza got up from her seat and walked away, clutching the second gift. She stopped at the door that led backstage, as though wondering what she was doing there. But as she reached for the handle, it suddenly moved and clicked, and it swung open to reveal a boy clad in a dark blue suit that went well with his eyes. He was tugging at his black bowtie, but when he saw Riza, he quickly stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Oh…hi, Riza," said Roy shyly. "You look…pretty," he supplied, gazing at her from head to foot, taking in her short hair pulled back with the clip he had given her, and her red dress, which was worn over a lacy white blouse. She gave him a small smile for the compliment, but it faded instantly when he observed, "You look more like a girl now."

"I _am_ a girl, in case you haven't noticed after all this time," said Riza pointedly. "Even if I prefer dressing up like a boy. And I'd like to say that you should always do your hair that way, all stuck to your head…"

"I didn't choose to have my hair fixed and covered with this gel stuff!" Roy interjected, his ego clearly burst. A second later, he sighed, no longer looking stung. "Sorry…you know I don't like fixing up my hair like this. Anyway, what brings you here, besides the fact that my dad invited you and Mr. Hawkeye too?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I was going to give you this." Her expression softened as she slowly handed over her gift. "Happy holidays, and we already left your sister a present. We hope she likes it."

In a flash, Roy had already torn open the wrapping paper and ribbon, and stuffed them into his pocket. When Riza stared at him, he replied, "I could use them! You know, for transmutations! And – did you make this yourself?"

In his hands was a slingshot. It was a simple, run-of-the-mill toy in most aspects, except for the handle and its base. On the handle, a large, red R had been painted, and when he turned it over, the circular base bore what looked like a small, simple array like those Roy often drew.

"My father told me you probably had lots of slingshots," said Riza, shrugging. "But I thought that you didn't have one with a transmutation circle on it, so when you run out of stones, you can always use the circle. He was the one who painted it there…and I was the one who showed him how your circles usually look like."

"Wow," was all Roy could say, gazing fondly at his present from every angle possible. "I used to have one – or two – or three, I could never remember – but they all broke, and I think I lost one on a trip. This is the best slingshot I've gotten…ever. Oh, and your dad was wrong. I did have a lot – but not now."

"I'll be sure to tell him that. And…you really like it? You mean it?"

Roy sighed, grinning at her. "Of course I do! My other friends always give me things I already have, or even stuff I can't use or would never wear in a million years."

Riza took "other friends" to mean the other girls who chased him and vied for his attention.

"Which reminds me…I brought my gift too…" He quickly dashed backstage. "Wait here!"

She blinked as Roy inadvertently slammed the door in her face, probably preparing her for a surprise. After quite a while, which she spent watching the rest of the guests and waving back at a beaming Regine, who was resplendent in a long, light pink gown that sparkled as she passed under the bright chandeliers and accompanied by a young redhead half a head taller than she was, the door reopened, and an empty-handed Roy returned, the slingshot stowed in his blazer pocket.

"Uh…it's not in here," he said to his shoes. Turning away so Riza wouldn't see him look frantic, he ran away to his family's table, where the twins were whispering and giggling to each other, Arthur was deep in conversation with Mr. Hawkeye, and Olivia was listening to a group of middle-aged women who all seemed to be talking at the same time.

"Dad?"

"Yes?" asked Arthur, turning to face his son. "You do realize Ni – Mr. Hawkeye and me are having a very engaging…"

"I'm sorry," said Roy automatically before dropping his voice. "Dad, do you know where Riza's present is?" He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the girl was still standing beside the backstage door. When he caught her eye, he quickly looked back at his father.

Mr. Hawkeye cocked his head to one side. "Is…anything wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," said Arthur formally. "My son seems to have misplaced what he was supposed to give to your daughter." Upon seeing Roy's suddenly mortified expression, Arthur scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Oops."

"I see." Mr. Hawkeye's face was nothing short of unfathomable.

"So where is it?" asked Roy, on the verge of panic. "I – "

"Roy, you better not forget this," said Victoria suddenly, holding up a small box wrapped in silver paper patterned with golden stars. She smiled and made a throwing gesture, but laughed when her younger brother actually gasped and reached out for it. "Did you really think I was going to toss it?" Victoria walked over to him and handed the present over with a wink.

He grinned back and chuckled at Arthur and Mr. Hawkeye.

"I didn't misplace it," said Roy, as though daring them to contradict him. "Thanks, Vicky."

"Just…hand it over already."

In a few strides, he covered the distance between him and Riza, who was about to walk over to their table as well, and thrust the present towards her.

"I thought for sure you'd lost it," she remarked.

"You greatly underestimate me," Roy answered, giving her the gift. "Happy holidays…and can you open it? I want to know what you think…and there's sort of another gift somewhere in there."

Riza stared at him quizzically, but did as she was told. Once the box was free of its wrapping, she quickly opened it and drew a couple of statuettes on a stand that almost looked like snow. The boy was offering the girl a gift, it seemed…

"This is the gift?" she asked. "Am I supposed to be laughing?"

He shook his head and smirked. "No, take the lid off the present…the one he's holding."

"You've got to be kidding," said Riza, but she obliged anyway, putting down the larger box at her feet, and the tiny top came off. Inside was a pair of small pearl earrings, fitting perfectly in the minuscule package.

And when she saw them, she was flummoxed at first, but her expression gradually changed into something more along the lines of pleasant surprise and formal gratitude. As for Roy, he continued smirking as he said, "Actually, my sisters picked out the pair when I told them I had no idea what to put into the box, and they told me that I didn't have to use alchemy for every little thing."

"Of course you don't," the girl agreed, replacing the little lid. "You're rich, you could buy anything."

"That's no fun," Roy pointed out. "I told you, the earrings were my sisters' idea. But…do you like it? I mean…them, the figures and the earrings?"

Riza stared at the boy giving the small gift to the girl in her hand. As she placed his creation back into the bigger box, she said, "I like them…a lot. And you really made something out of alchemy this time. I'm going to show it to my father, and I bet he'll like it. Thank you."

She looked up, smiling gently, suddenly looking even more like a girl than ever, as if she had never worn anything boyish or carried a slingshot with her in her life.

"Hey…why don't you try on the earrings?" Roy suggested eagerly. "Ginny, Vicky and Lizzie will want to see how they look on you."

"Well…"

"Don't be silly, come on! They're going to bring out the food any minute, and then the program will begin, and everyone will be too busy doing stuff!" He took her free hand, and though she hesitated at first, she finally let him drag her back to their table.


	12. The Gift of Giving II

_A belated Valentine's Day/Singles' Awareness Day to everyone…here is a belated chapter. Sorry for the delay, folks. I blame college and that our semester is almost over and REQUIREMENTS. –dies– _

* * *

"Hey…it's Valentine's Day tomorrow. Look at all the hearts and flowers and everything; they're all over the place."

"So?"

"I'm just saying. As if it's really that important. This has got to be the most useless holiday of the year."

"Whoever made this up deserves a good kick in the behind."

"Yeah, who'd invent a holiday just for guys to give girls presents? Don't we already have Christmas and birthdays and some other random holidays for that? Plus, on those days, we also get gifts, not only them."

The group of boys stopped to sit on a bench beside a flower shop, where they found a young man forking over a few bills for a huge bouquet of roses in every possible hue, which he then handed to the lady beside him. She sighed, clutching the roses close to her and then grabbing the man with her free arm, kissing him on both cheeks.

The boys recoiled as the couple walked away.

"Yuck."

"I know."

"Like I said, Valentine's Day is useless…but not for some of us. Every year, all the girls whine about how they want Mustang to give them gifts, but he doesn't, because there's too many of them. But hey, I'm sure he can, since he's rich and all that…"

The only black-haired one of the bunch scowled as his friend continued raising his tone. "Shut up, Joe. Do you think I _like_ the attention?"

"Actually, yes," replied the boy called Joe, adjusting horn-rimmed glasses. The rest of the children smirked and nodded in agreement.

"Well, I don't! Don't you know how hard it is to get out and hang around when all the girls always want you to buy this for them, go with them to this place, and all that…" Roy's voice trailed off as a couple of girls their age passed by, swooping down instantly on the flowers on display. One of them snuck a furtive glance at the boys seated on the bench, gazing at Roy longer before turning to whisper into her friend's ear. She grinned and giggled behind a handkerchief. Then, when Roy couldn't take it anymore, the pair trudged off, chatting excitedly.

The guys broke into raucous peals of laughter that were frowned upon by a passing middle-aged woman in a strange hat with what looked like a stuffed swallow.

"See? All those girls would trip all over their own feet and eat mud for you!"

"Come on, why don't you give them gifts? Or at least, choose one…then again, all those you don't give gifts to are gonna – "

"You can have the attention," said Roy, rolling his eyes. "Be my guest, really. I'm going home."

"Are you finally gonna make something for all your girls, Mustang, maybe out of those alchemy tricks you're into?"

"Will you just _shut up_? Don't make me alchemize your – "

* * *

The wind slammed the door for him, and at the same time, announced his presence. Regine stuck her head out of the kitchen, hands in checkered mitts clutching a steaming tray of muffins. The rich, sweet aroma made Roy forget about Valentine's Day – that is, until his sister told him why she was making them.

"Want a muffin? I'm baking these for Rupert on Valentine's Day. I mean…since he's always the one who brings me presents. I thought I'd return the favor."

"No thanks," grumbled Roy, plopping into the sofa after unceremoniously tossing his jacket aside. "I'm not hungry."

"What's with you?" asked Elizabeth, who was seated in one of the large, comfy armchairs. She barely looked up from whatever she was perusing. "You're always first to Ginny's muffins."

He glared at her. "I said I'm not hungry."

"Even when you're not hungry, you insist on eating one anyway."

"Is this like, something I have to do every year or else?" Roy suddenly demanded, red patches blossoming on his cheeks. He stood up so abruptly that Lizzie shut her book to stare at him. "Why the hell do you care?"

"I'm just saying…"

Despite being the younger sibling, he cut her off. "Now where have I heard that before?" Roy said sarcastically.

"I don't know; where _have_ you heard that before?" asked Lizzie, still unnaturally calm, her hands folded primly over her book.

"Are you all right, Roy?" asked Regine, stepping out of the kitchen and removing her mitts. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's just fine!" he said, his voice rising dangerously. "Will you two leave me alone?"

But it was the youngest Mustang child who left the living room, stomping all the way down the hallway and up the stairs. Ginny winced as they heard another door slam, but Lizzie barely reacted, except to turn to her older sister with a raised eyebrow.

"We need reinforcements, Gin."

"So I've noticed…and I don't mean Vicky."

* * *

Roy lay on his bed, arms crossed against his chest and staring hard at everything in his bedroom, alchemized or otherwise. He had drawn the curtains of his window, and practically became blind and deaf to the outside world – that is, until he heard three knocks, followed by a, "Roy, dear, it's me. Won't you let your mother in?"

He wanted to say no, but didn't want to risk a negative reaction, so he kept playing deaf instead.

"Roy?"

No answer.

"I have one of Ginny's muffins, she asked me to bring this up for you."

The boy still made not a single move.

"Isn't there anything you want to talk to me about? Your sisters – "

"They're wrong!" Roy suddenly burst out, but when he clapped his hands to his mouth, it was too late.

Both sides fell silent for a moment.

"Open the door, Roy…_please_."

Gripping the covers of his bed, he continued to lie there, preferring to focus on the ceiling. But before too long, he finally conceded, crossed the room and did as he was told. Indeed, it was his mother standing at the threshold, with a small plate holding one muffin, its smell seemingly calling out to him – and at the same time, repelling him. Without even a look at her or her offering, Roy quickly walked back to his bed, plopping down on it so hard that the bedsprings creaked.

Olivia Mustang sighed, blowing a strand of her light brown hair away from her face. She followed her son, placing the plate with Regine's masterpiece on his desk, next to a stack of alchemy books before sitting down beside him.

Instead of talking to his mother, the boy chose to adjust the collar of his shirt, deliberately avoiding any eye contact. But his fingers slipped on a button when he heard her speak.

"You know you can tell me anything."

"I don't need to tell you anything," Roy muttered, speaking to his shoes. "There's nothing…"

"But that's not what Lizzie and Ginny told me – "

"What did they say?" He turned at last to face Olivia, who was looking at him as though he was a stray cat she had brought in from the rain. "They're not always right…"

"You were yelling at them, it seemed," said Olivia, still showing no sign of anger or disapproval. Her voice was soft and low, and she reached out to touch his hand, which twitched as though Roy wanted to pull it away, but he didn't actually withdraw it. "But they're not mad at you. They're hoping you feel the same way. Come now…whatever you and I say stays here, I promise."

It took a while for him to answer, but as he twiddled his fingers and stared at the floor again, he nodded. His mother was almost taken aback when he spoke again.

"Mom…what's Valentine's Day for?"

She raised her eyebrows and chuckled, though she quickly rearranged her face into a more stoic expression when she saw him gawping at her. "Why do you ask?"

"I mean…can't boys just give girls gifts on their birthdays? What's so important about giving gifts on Valentine's Day? My friends keep on teasing me about it and about the girls who want me to give or even make them things, just like last year, and the year before that, when Tracey Snide – "

"Goodness, I remember dear Tracey," said Olivia wistfully, a small smile forming on her lips. "Wasn't she the sweet little girl who – "

"Yes," said Roy, and then bit his lip; but she didn't seem at all annoyed that he had interrupted.

"Okay…anyway, about your questions, Valentine's Day is a holiday…well, for simply showing your loved ones how much you…love them. That's what's important about it, but you don't necessarily have to buy anything. You can just say it, or even show it. Valentine's Day is a day set aside just for that. And don't you mind those other boys teasing you, they're all just jealous because you're a smart, virtuous and handsome young man. Many girls will…"

He blushed deep scarlet and gritted his teeth before muttering, "_That's_ why they tease me…"

"I'm sorry," said Olivia, smiling sheepishly and scratching her head. "Like I said, ignore them. All the girls like you because you're smart, you're handsome, and on top of all that, you're a good boy. But don't be pressured to give out gifts to everyone you pass by – it is so much better to _show_ people…and I don't mean just girls, but also your friends, your family…that you love them – or at least, that you care."

"Show?"

"You know, those little things you do for people can mean a lot, Roy. Remember that. Every word you say, and even more so everything you do…they mean so much more than gifts you can just leave on anyone's doorstep. For example, Lizzie and Ginny weren't panicking when they told me about you, but I'm sure that deep inside they want to know what's going on with their brother. So, is that what's going on with you right now?"

"I guess so…"

Olivia put an arm around her son's shoulders. "Do you feel better now? Being liked by a lot of girls isn't something to be ashamed of, but don't let it go to your head. Anyway, I think that muffin's cooled down by now, and if you don't eat it, the ants will. I'll be downstairs in my study if you need me, all right? Bring down the platter when you're done."

She gave him a tiny peck on the cheek and stood up. As she walked out of the room, Roy approached his muffin, as though it were a bomb that would go off any minute. He stared at it intently, and heard the click of the door as his mother closed it behind her.

Approximately three seconds later, he grabbed the muffin and exited as well, shouting, "Mom? Mom, can I use the telephone? I promise I'll get off really quick!"

* * *

Riza smiled at the plain satin ribbon in her hands, which was just the right shade of midnight blue. It did seem quite inappropriate for the holiday, but she couldn't care less.

"Don't you want a red one, dear? Perhaps a pink one…"

"No, thanks," said the girl politely to the saleswoman. The young blonde gave the ribbon to her before digging into her pocket for the money. That day, her father had given her quite a bit for Valentine's Day, to spend on whatever she wanted, and her purse was bulging…

At least, it had been a few moments ago.

Riza bit her lip and tried not to look at all anxious as she rooted through her tiny purse, where only a few coins remained. The ribbon was simple yet beautiful, and she could just use it as a headband since her hair was short…it would be a nice change from wearing nothing, or from hairclips…then again, there was always next time; there were many ribbons in the store, anyway…

"Here."

The saleswoman didn't look at all taken aback when a boy with a paper bag in one hand stepped forward and dropped several coins onto the counter. She gathered them up and nodded, and the boy turned around to face Riza, who simply raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't need your money. Just because you're rich…"

"I didn't do it because I could," Roy objected, gathering his change and following her as she left with the ribbon, which she began tying into her hair. "You looked like you wanted it. Think of it as a Valentine's Day gift from me."

"And what are you doing here? I thought I was going to meet you at the park. You know…the same place where we first met and I got rid of those bullies for you."

The boy smirked, one hand on his hips as he opened the door for her. "I think you have forgotten that _I_ saved you. And, I saw you come in."

"Are you _spying_ on me?" asked Riza, narrowing her eyes and striding past him. "If you think – "

"I wasn't!" was the hot reply. Roy took a couple of deep breaths as he shut the door behind him and tailed after her. "Look – while I was walking, these girls started chasing me and asking me if I could invite them for dinner at my house or buy them things they want, since I'm a boy and boys take girls out to dinner and buy stuff for them, and I didn't know what to answer, so I ran in here and hid, all right?"

Riza stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. "You claim that you saved me, and yet you're afraid of girls?"

"I just don't know what to tell them! When I say no, they just end up begging and pleading and whining till I give in! My parents and sisters told me to be nice to girls, but how can I be nice when they're…well, not nice?" He paused, staring at the paper bag he clutched. "Oh yeah…since we're here, this is for you." Roy thrust it towards her.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

Without further ado, she did as she was told. A rich aroma emanated from the bag as it was opened, and Riza peered inside to see a muffin sitting quietly at the bottom, as though patiently waiting for the time when she would eat it.

"Did you…bake it?"

"Me? Bake?" Roy laughed. "If I did bake, we'd probably be homeless by now. Nah, it was my sister Regine. She baked the muffins for Rupert – you know who Rupert is, right? And I asked her if I could save one for you."

Resealing the bag, Riza stared at him again with those piercing, reddish-brown eyes of hers.

"If you're so scared of giving girls gifts, then why did you give me this?"

Roy blinked several times. "Well…" He scratched his head, and said, "You know, you're not like all the other girls, didn't I tell you? You don't bug me to play the piano or do things I don't want to just because you want it. You don't ask me if I think you look pretty or if your dress goes with your ribbon…that's why. And, and…"

Her grip on the bag tightened slightly. "And what?"

"I think you're a nice girl."

Those words seemed to echo in Riza's ears, even as everything was silent between them. They just stood there in front of a flower shop, staring at each other. Her eyes grew wide, and Roy quickly hid his hands behind his back, surreptitiously crossing two fingers and shifting from foot to foot.

She turned away, feeling her cheeks burn and hoping that he boy didn't notice.

"I mean it!" Roy emphasized, somehow spoiling the moment by raising his voice. "And you know what? Every year on Valentine's Day, my sisters and I get to invite a friend or someone like that over for the Valentine's dinner my mom makes every year. Every year, I get stuck with a girl I don't even like that much because they keep begging that I take them. But now…but now…"

The youngest Mustang sighed, balling his hands into fists this time. "I called to tell you to meet me at the park…because I wanted to tell you that I want to invite you _and_ your dad tonight for dinner. It's a surprise. I…think it should have been for later…"

"I thought you could only invite one friend."

"My dad wanted to invite your dad, and my mom said she didn't mind."

Riza faced him again, looking down at her shoes and slowly moving up to gape at his face.

"Really?"

"I told you, I mean it," said Roy. "Will you come, Riza?"

Her mouth curled into the tiniest (and cutest, in Roy's opinion) of grins, but it disappeared much faster than it had come. "But…why are you inviting me? Is it because soon you'll be old enough to be my father's apprentice?"

"_No!"_

A middle-aged woman shifted the groceries in her arms as she stared at the two children staring at each other before she walked off to the flower shop behind them. The boy gasped, clapping his hands to his mouth and then making some unnecessary gesticulations as he said, "I mean, I'm sorry…but yeah, no. I'm not doing this for that. I'm doing this because…I want to do something for you, Riza. My mom told me that Valentine's Day isn't just about weird-smelling flowers, or gifts, or girls chasing you hoping that you'd give them those things. And, I also want to do something for your dad, especially since it was nice of him and all to, well, wait till I can become his apprentice."

One corner of Riza's mouth twitched as though she was about to smile again.

"I hope you're not doing this because you think I don't get anything on Valentine's Day. I don't need your pity, Roy Mustang."

But this time, she smiled, and added, "Thanks. I'll tell my dad. He's not doing much today, anyway, and I think he'll accept the invite."

It was Roy's turn to beam as he said, "That's great…and, you're welcome. You know, you should smile like that more often. You look so much cuter that way."

"Don't push it."

"It's true!"

"Like I said, don't push it."


	13. The Gift of Giving III

_Happy Royai Day, everyone! Advanced, really…since it's on the 11__th__. But yeah. This is my piece for that day._

* * *

Riza stared at the last bit of toast in her hand, and ate it before any of the orange jam could drip onto her fingers. She glanced all around the kitchen and dining room before gazing at the three other chairs at the table, which were empty. There was almost nothing on the table except a half-full glass of milk and a plate strewn with stray smears of jam and bread crumbs.

And with a sigh, she drank the last of the milk and cleared the table, dutifully washing everything; the plate, the glass, even the spoon she had used to spread the jam, as all knives were out of her reach. When she was done, she strode out through the green curtains that separated that area, but instead of climbing up the stairs, she turned down the hall that led to her father's study.

Her intuition had always been right so far.

Opening the door as slowly and as silently as she could, she could see that her father was fast asleep on his desk, snoring away on several papers and open books. At his feet were wads of crumpled paper, sheets that either were tossed aside carelessly or fluttered down from the desktop, chalk drawings of alchemic arrays, and even globs of candle wax, ash trails and used matches.

For the girl, this scene was all too familiar. Crossing the room, she went over to the snoozing man and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Father?"

"Equivalent exchange…but what should be lost?" Nicholas mumbled in his sleep, his fingers twitching on the pencil he still held.

"Father, wake up. It's already morning," Riza whispered, gently shaking him. "And I already had breakfast. I had toast with jam, and I knew where the milk was."

The alchemist stirred and shifted about in his chair before raising his head from the table and rubbing his eyes. Dropping the pencil, he stretched out his arms and finally took notice of his daughter staring at him.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry…what time is it?"

"It's…well, it was eight-thirty when I passed by the clock in the living room."

"I see," Nicholas replied, standing up and loosening a few kinks in his back. "Damn…fell asleep again…" He glanced quickly at his slightly smudged notes before tottering out of his study without looking back to see if Riza was following him.

She wasn't.

Instead, the girl was scanning his notes, which he left strewn all over his desk. Though she didn't know what all the words meant, and could make out only a few coherent phrases in his hasty, angular scrawl, Riza knew that he was still on his way to his dream. But something new caught her eye – something she had never seen him draw before, especially not in a transmutation circle.

It looked like a lizard.

Then again, arrays often had strange symbols that weren't always what they seemed. She was no alchemic apprentice, but her father was an alchemist, and it was inevitable that she would pick up a few things from him.

Before he could find out that she lingered in his room, the young girl left and entered the living room instead…where she saw their piano, covered and untouched again. She imagined Roy sitting on the bench, playing one of her mother's favorite tunes. Ever since Perenelle, he had been the only one to tickle the aging ivories.

All the books were on the shelf, probably wedged among her father's alchemy books. Besides, many of them had more complicated pieces that only a piano prodigy – like Roy Mustang – could play. Riza shook her head, bringing herself back in front of the piano.

Without further ado, she opened the lid and propped it up before uncovering the keys. The girl could feel a slight frisson of excitement as she plopped onto the bench. At first, she stared at the strips of black and white before her, thinking of that day Roy had taught her a thing or two about the piano.

And then she slowly positioned her fingers. The tune was coming back to her, and even though she was very much aware of the fact that she was no expert, it didn't matter, not at all.

"Riza, is that you?"

Her father's voice interrupted her, and she paused to turn around in her seat. Nicholas stood in the doorway that led to the kitchen and dining room, a piece of toast in one hand and a mug of coffee in another. But he didn't look at all surprised or mortified at this strange new sight.

"I assume that Mustang boy's been teaching you his tricks?" He actually sounded amused, and there was a twinkle in his gray eyes, like a star shining through the stormy skies.

But Riza was saved from answering by a knock on their door, which was instantly followed by a few more. She quickly covered the keys and the strings of the piano as her father answered the door.

Standing in the doorway was a young woman flanked by a boy flattening his hair with one hand and clutching a sizeable, hastily-wrapped present in the other.

"Mr. Hawkeye?" asked the woman, tucking a strand of her dark brown hair behind one ear.

"Hello, Mr. Hawkeye," the boy greeted as well, grinning sheepishly as he held the box to his chest.

"I know you," said Nicholas. "You're one of Mustang's kids. Chaperoning your brother, I presume?"

Roy scowled. "I don't need a chaperone."

"Don't be silly. Mother wanted me to come with you, anyway, whether you like it or not," said Regine, patting his shoulder. He strode into the living room ahead of her and instantly saw Riza still perched on the piano bench.

The girl gasped and jumped to her feet. "Roy – "

At first he seemed to dither, but approached her, holding out the present and saying, "Happy birthday, Riza."

Riza did indeed know that it was her birthday, but she never expected Roy to suddenly come knocking on her door. All too aware that they weren't exactly the most well-to-do family around, she never did ask for a party, but would wait patiently for her father, some of her friends and perhaps relatives who approved of Nicholas and Perenelle's union to send their gifts and regards.

And more importantly, how did he know?

As though he read her mind, the boy said, "I can't believe my mom actually asked your dad when your birthday is _and_ what your dress size was. Umm…don't you like your present?"

She stared at it for a while before taking it slowly. "Thank you," she whispered, fingering the blue ribbon.

"Could you…open it now and tell me what you think?"

Regine gave her sibling a disapproving look, but Riza didn't seem to notice as she gently undid the ribbon. The wrapping amazingly came off in one piece, and soon only the box sat on the blonde girl's lap.

"It's from all of us," the elder Mustang added. "Roy also reminded me that you're not too fond of pink."

The box contained two simple skirt and blouse sets – one in navy blue and the other in an attractive shade of red that matched Riza's eyes nicely. The red top had a little bow tie, and the blue skirt's hem had a bit of white lace, but on the whole there wasn't anything too flamboyant. Though she only had a small grin on her face, her eyes were alight as she caressed the light fabric.

"Mom couldn't decide between the two, so she bought both colors," Roy couldn't help remarking. "So…what do you think?"

"And, we're sorry not all of us could come, and we can't stay too long. We've been playing host to our grandmother, who just came from the south for a visit. We promise that on your next birthday, we'll throw you a party."

"It was Mom's idea."

Riza stared at the two Mustang siblings, who beamed back at her.

"They're…beautiful," she said softly, replacing the box lid. "Thank you…very much."

"And, did you mean it when you said you were going to host a party for my daughter's ninth birthday?" asked Nicholas incredulously, before raising an eyebrow skeptically. "What's the catch?"

"No catch; just teach my little brother alchemy when he turns thirteen, that's all," said Regine, nodding.

"Wait – technically that's a catch, Miss Mustang," answered the alchemist. But he caught Roy's expectant gaze, and quickly added, "But I assure you, I will take him as my apprentice. Of course…I would like to see some improvement."

The boy started rooting in his pockets. "You want to see some improvement now?"

"No, no, save that for your next birthday. I want to be pleasantly surprised."

"I'm turning twelve."

"Oh…your next birthday after that, then."

* * *

"Honestly, Roy, don't slam the door like that. It's not polite, you could wake up Grandma, and you could wreck it. What's wrong with you?"

The boy leaned against the door, heaving. "They saw me. Annie and her gang, they were at the corner of Dragon and Dahlia…"

Regine sighed, scratching her head. "No wonder when we passed by, you suddenly pulled me into that shortcut through the alley. Honestly, what's wrong with them seeing you?"

"They're always asking me for invitations to my twelfth birthday. But it's still a long way away!" he complained, stomping towards the staircase.

"How did they know – "

"I don't want to know!"

Regine heard a fainter slam; after all, Roy's room was the closest to the guest room, where their beloved grandmother was probably taking her afternoon nap. She shook her head, twirling a lock of hair that had escaped from her dark brown ponytail. Taking a deep breath, she strode towards the couch and flopped into it, preferring to focus on the ceiling and the ornate chandelier that hung over her.

Many boys his age would complain when no girls chased _them_. In fact, the main reason why Roy didn't have a lot of male friends was because whenever they encountered girls, they would instantly surround the youngest Mustang like flies to honey. The boys were jealous, jealous of his uncanny ability to attract pre-adolescents of the opposite sex. Or perhaps something more specific; all in all, she considered Roy a good kid.

And he considered what most would call a blessing a curse.

Still, whether he liked it or not, there would come a day when he would be able to use his charisma to his advantage…

"Ginny?"

Clutching her usual book to her chest, one half of the Mustang twins wandered into the living room from the corridor that led to the library.

"Oh…it's just you, Liz."

"You look like you're doing a lot of thinking there," said the younger girl.

"I'm thinking of Roy. Is it a sin for a sister to worry about her little brother?" said Regine, crossing her arms.

Elizabeth shook her head. "If it were, then tie me, gag me, lock me up and throw away the key. He's still serious about learning alchemy, isn't he? I mean…his skills are enough to earn him a place in the ranks of the State Alchemists. When he grows up, I'm sure someone will come by and recruit him and…"

Her older sibling held up a hand. "I know. But Roy actually _wants_ to become a State Alchemist. His goal is to become a great alchemist and serve Amestris. It's still possible even without the silver pocket watch, but you know our brother…"

"Roy is a lot of things – confident, ambitious, diligent…"

"See?"

"Where is he now?'

Regine pointed to the general direction of the stairs. "In his room."

But the two girls couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

Somewhere on the third floor of the mansion were two glass doors that led to the spacious balcony that looked over their garden. Usually, there were only three pieces of furniture; a round glass table and two cushioned chairs.

Today, there were four, which included a stand that held an open book. Roy stood before it, his hands full of violin and bow as he followed note after note, the only sounds he could hear. He wanted peace and quiet as he practiced…and yet, he wished that Riza heard him now. His family always listened to him play, and he complied with most requests he got from his friends, but somehow, playing for Riza was something entirely different.

He let his bow skim over the strings gently, listening to the tune – until it broke on a pitch too low for comfort. The boy was tempted to hurl his bow into the garden, but resisted; his family was indeed rich, but money didn't grow on trees. Plus, Riza might probably want to hear one of her mother's favorite songs on the violin for a change. Roy scolded himself for constantly putting off practice – as a result, he wasn't able to play his violin for her on her eighth birthday.

At least there was always next year…

Roy heard the glass doors slide, and put down his bow, turning around to see who it was. The sight of the girl was enough to almost make him jump a mile into the air.

"Your sisters told me that if you weren't in your bedroom, you'd be up here."

"Riza!" he exclaimed, nearly dropping his violin instead of setting it down gently on the table. "What are you doing here? It's not that it's a bad thing, but…"

She stepped forward, and Roy saw that she was wearing one of her new outfits – the red blouse and skirt, to be exact. They did match her eyes well – much better than he had imagined.

"My father had to talk to your father," she said tersely, sitting herself primly in one chair. "He didn't want to leave me behind, so he took me with him. Anyway, after this, we're visiting my grandfather. He's also an officer in the military."

"Oh…well, what are they talking about right now?"

"I don't know." The girl shrugged, and she reached out to touch the violin. "Were you practicing?"

"You didn't interrupt or anything," said Roy, shaking his head. "I just…wanted to be somewhere quiet. My sisters know that this is where I go when I want to be alone. I guess it's like my special spot. The view is all right…you can't see all of Amestris, but it's a start. I mean, it's just the third floor."

Riza stood up and walked over to the fancy railing. "_We_ don't have a third floor, remember?"

"Sorry," he answered sheepishly. "I didn't mean anything…"

Without turning around, she held up a hand and told him, "Don't apologize. You don't need to." Roy took this time to stay beside her, violin and bow in hand. Then he began to play – an unadorned melody that befitted their serene surroundings. This time, Riza faced him, watching his fingers move along the strings and his other hand manipulate the bow expertly.

She was not surprised that these very same fingers could skim across piano keys. For a while, she wondered how they moved on a flute, but before too long, the tune was over, and the youngest Mustang actually bowed before her.

"Happy birthday," he said, grinning. "I sort of wanted to play for you, but…let's just say I usually feel more comfortable on the piano. But you told me one time that you wanted to hear me play the violin too…and your mom's favorite songs are sort of harder on the violin…" Roy quickly replaced his instrument in its case and closed the book he had been poring over a few moments ago. "I think it's good you could pass by…"

The girl could only look down at her shoes, her face almost matching her outfit _and_ her eyes.

"Oh…remember what you taught me on the piano the last time I was here?" she asked, tugging at her collar.

"Yeah, I do. Why?"

"While I'm here…could you teach me some more? I mean…if you're not…"

Gathering up his things, Roy couldn't help smiling – it wasn't everyday he saw Riza with such a pleading, eager expression. And in his opinion, it was a cute look for her…

"What are you so happy about?"

"Nothing…oh, nothing, let's head downstairs."


	14. Brought Together

_I procrastinate, therefore I am._

_And yay time skip!_

_Ever since the release of recent chapters in the manga, I hereby deem this fanfic to be slightly AU. But unless you've been up-to-date – or spoiled, you won't know how or why. _

But while Riza went up the stairs to the balcony and met Roy and his violin there, her father stayed in the dining room where he sat with Roy's parents talking about more important matters than violins and birthdays.

"This is a bribe, General Mustang," said Nicholas Hawkeye, staring at the wad of money beside his glass of water.

"It's not. It is simply a gift from a friend to another. Perhaps 'gift' wasn't the word I was looking for…I think it's more like 'financial assistance'…"

"We are not destitute little peasants you can just take pity on and expect to support you when you rise through the ranks, remember that. We can get along just fine…"

"I'm just trying to help – "

Arthur rose from his chair as he spoke, but he slowly sat back down when Olivia quickly reached out for his hand, gripping it tightly. The two of them traded looks before the woman of the manor spoke.

"Arthur, _please_. And Nicholas, you need a better job. Being a stay-home alchemist doesn't cut it at all, even if people do come to you every now and then to have things repaired and tip you well. It's just not enough…"

"Maybe you could – "

Nicholas Hawkeye shook his head adamantly. "Don't even _think_ about recruiting me into your army, Arthur. You know better than that. Anyway," he went on more steadily and less heatedly, "what is with the sudden offer? I know you're richer than I'll ever be…"

Holding up a hand, the general interrupted. "Don't say things like that. And, I was about to suggest something else. I know you aren't very fond of the military." Arthur let out a long breath and took a swig from his glass. "Sometimes…sometimes I wish I had a different line of work, you know."

The three adults were silent. The alchemist twiddled his thumbs, obviously itching to ask why the general even bothered to join the military, but decided that clamming up was a much better option.

"Listen," said Arthur, "take the money. I am not doing this because I pity you, it's because I really care about you and Riza – there's a difference. Is that so wrong? And what would I gain from bribing you? If anything, I'd sure gain a swift kick in the pants and a sanction from my superiors. I'm not like that." He shoved the bills towards Nicholas, who only grinned crookedly.

"You'll be giving that to me too when I start training your boy, anyway."

"That's over a year away, and Roy won't be your apprentice forever!" Arthur blurted out.

"We'll get by just fine, don't worry so much about us," his comrade replied calmly. "Besides, you're raising four kids; you'll need more 'financial assistance' than we do. Speaking of which…when Regine and Roy came to wish Riza a happy birthday, your daughter mentioned something about throwing her a party on her next birthday. I appreciate the gesture, but…"

This time, it was Olivia who answered. "The same reason why Arthur wants to help you, of course. It's the least we could do for you. And, Riza deserves to enjoy her childhood. I think of this as helping you out. I mean, I can't imagine taking care of our children without Arthur…"

The aforementioned man reached out and squeezed her hands when she shuddered at the thought. Nicholas couldn't help feeling the slightest twinge of jealousy, and heard the sound of a piano being played, which briefly brought him out of the loop and back into the distant and yet not so distant past, when Perenelle was still alive, and their family was still complete…

"You know, it's been a long time since anyone was this nice to me," he whispered, gazing at the money in front of him as though expecting it to talk.

The Mustang couple remained silent. But Arthur quickly broke the dramatic moment by saying loudly, "You three aren't going to get anything eavesdropping like that. It's quite unladylike."

The music emanating from the living room came to an abrupt halt, and they could hear footsteps as the two youngsters joined the girls who had been listening to the conversation. Victoria and Elizabeth began nudging each other, and Regine cleared her throat, ready to speak up for her siblings.

But Nicholas stood up, which saved them from the trouble of explaining – for now.

"Thank you for your help. I really mean it. But Riza and I must go…we're going to see my father-in-law."

"You can show your appreciation by taking our gift, all right?" said Olivia gently. Dropping her voice, she whispered, "You don't have to do everything by yourself."

The alchemist nodded, and beckoned his daughter to follow him as they left the Mustang family. "Thank you again. I'm more than sure we'll see each other again soon. Fate has its ways of bringing people together, whether they like it or not."

Riza barely had time to wave goodbye to Roy and everyone else before she walked away as well.

When the front door closed behind their visitors, Victoria let out a sigh of relief.

"You're not getting away that easily," Arthur reminded them. "Now, what were you all doing, eavesdropping like that?"

"It is always a pleasure to see my favorite son-in-law, and of course, my granddaughter. How long has it been since your last visit? My goodness, it's been quite a while, hasn't it…"

"I am your _only_ son-in-law…Colonel – oh, is it Brigadier General now?"

Brigadier General Grumman, who was responsible for Perenelle's Amestrian heritage, smiled, reaching down to pat Riza on the head. "So you've noticed?" he asked, gesturing to the thick golden bar on one of his shoulders with his other hand. "Anyway, you two are always welcome. I just hope you would visit more often. After all, my life doesn't revolve around the military."

Though he already had a grandchild, Grumman didn't look too much like the part. In fact, he was only several years older than Arthur Mustang, reaching his fifties first. His hair had already begun to recede, and bits of gray showed up in it and his mustache. Adjusting his glasses, he glanced down into the girl's head as though looking for lice. "Hmm…that's a shiny new clip you've got there. Was it a gift?"

She nodded before turning her attention toward something on the coffee table. Figures of varying shapes and sizes were lined up in two neat little rows facing each other on a checkered board, but Riza knew better than to touch.

"You wouldn't believe who gave it to her," said Nicholas, as Grumman offered him a seat on the large, comfortable sofa. "A little boy named Roy Mustang. Do you – "

"Ah, Mustang!" exclaimed Grumman, laughing. "Major General Arthur Mustang, that reminds me, has been flying through the ranks lately. But really, he's a good one, and he still manages to make time for his lovely wife and children. They're nice folk, the Mustangs. Anyhow, Arthur's been bragging about his son – yes, Roy – who's quite the little alchemist. He's also told me about how – "

"I'll be his alchemy instructor?" his son-in-law cut him off. "I assume he already told you."

The older man smiled and clapped Nicholas on the back with the stamina of a younger lad. "Not even the military is free of gossip. But seriously, how have you been doing lately? And why are we all standing around here for? Have a seat, both of you! Would you like some juice, perhaps something to eat?"

Nicholas shook his head as he sank into the sofa with his daughter. "No, I'm just…here to say hello. Oh, and in case you forgot, Riza turned eight a few days ago."

"How could I forget?" said Grumman. "Actually…I sort of lost track when I didn't see you. I thought her birthday was much earlier…but I didn't forget, really. Happy birthday, my dear."

He turned to a cabinet and unlocked it with a key he kept in his pocket before extracting a large package. As he hefted it, he saw the girl from the corner of his eye still surveying the pieces on the table. In fact, Riza was turning over one of the white pieces in her little fingers…

But Nicholas was quicker.

"Those are your grandfather's; don't go touching them like that. You know better," he chastised her gently. Before she could obediently return the figure to its proper place on the checkered board, Grumman reached them again, but didn't seem to be annoyed at all, especially as Riza managed to replace the piece in its correct location. He presented the gift to her before staring down at the board.

"Have you ever played chess, little one?"

She truthfully shook her head, and Nicholas added, "She's not exactly the chess type."

"Chess is a very interesting game," said Grumman, nodding. "Not much athletic prowess needed here, not when the only part of your body that'll be moving would be your hand. Brute force and violence have no place here, unless you could consider _this_ violence." He selected the queen from the white ranks and flicked a black pawn with it. "That's called capturing."

"And the one who gets the most pieces wins?" asked Riza curiously.

"No, this is not all about simply taking your opponent's pieces. It's so much more than that. You can win the game even if you have only one left – provided that it's the king. The king is the most important…oho, look at me, I'm rambling again." Grumman chuckled and replaced the queen and the pawn.

"Riza is only eight years old. She's too young to learn chess," Nicholas said. "Listen, I think it's about time we left. Thank you very much for having us…and Riza, what do you say?"

"Thank you, Grandfather," she said, reaching up to give him a kiss on his cheek. "You'll teach me how to play chess next time, right?"

He laughed and patted her head again. "Of course, of course! And honestly, Nicholas, eight is a good age to teach her. Do it while she's young…"

Dropping his voice, Grumman added in his son-in-law's ear, "Try to loosen up a bit, will you?"

Roy sighed, shutting _The Do's and Don'ts of Basic Alchemy_ with a loud, dusty snap and coughed as he accidentally inhaled a bit of dust. After that, he placed the book on top of another three to his right and leaned back.

That was the last of the alchemy books in their immense library. He wanted to impress Mr. Hawkeye by having a good stock knowledge of alchemy, but he felt like it still wasn't enough. Riza's father was a real master of the art, and he probably wouldn't be amazed; much of the information Roy managed to gather were basic principles and theories that Mr. Hawkeye surely knew like the back of his hand.

Maybe he could just keep on practicing…but he had done so much of that. The boy knew that he had to be aware of what he was doing instead of simply doing it over and over again, so he had locked himself in the library for an hour or so and completely lost track of time as he perused book after book. Roy was even positive that he had already reread some volumes…

He found the ancient grandfather clock by following the sound of its ticking. It was already half past ten, and the wide, open windows showed nothing but a black sky strewn with stars. A cool breeze blew in, gently lifting the curtains and bringing with it a nightingale's song.

Alchemy, Roy knew, was both a science and an art. It worked with the balance of nature, always creating only enough, never too much or too little – that was the law of equivalent exchange. To obtain, something of equal value had to be lost. Because of it, people had power over their surroundings, manipulating anything around them as they desired. It was like magic; except that magic could never be coherently explained. Besides, magicians never revealed their secrets; it would spoil everything. Alchemy, on the other hand, was still a wonderful tool no matter how many times people explained it.

But unlike alchemy, the beauty of the sky, the birdsong and the world in general couldn't be explained as easily. The world wasn't perfect, but that didn't stop it from being so beautiful. Its pulchritude knew no bounds – and indeed, there were some things that didn't need any intervention from alchemists. Life, for one, could never be manipulated; it was taboo.

It didn't need to be manipulated anyway; life was perfect the way it was – imperfections and all.

As he stood before the window, Roy could almost feel himself growing…growing from a roguish boy to a young man whose eyes were finally opening to reality. Maybe alchemy couldn't do everything – like catch falling stars, bring back the dead and make inanimate objects human – but it could sure do a lot.

And for a moment, he wondered if Riza could see, hear and feel the same things he did right now. That was something else alchemy couldn't do – arrange a fateful meeting between the two children and, slowly but surely, intertwine their paths together.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, Roy Mustang was thirteen.

He glanced around his bedroom as though expecting it to have warped in his sleep – which it didn't. However, over the years, his room did change, albeit gradually. The box that held all of his toys was rarely opened now, and it became more of a second table to hold all kinds of books, writing materials and various objects made from alchemy when his shelves became crowded. His desk became more cluttered as the years went by and he continued studying alchemy – among other things – on his own. More medals, certificates and other merits began covering the walls.

There was a knock on his door, which was now more closed than open to give the young alchemist his privacy. He got out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and scratching his head. A quick glance in the mirror told him that his hair was a mess, but he never really cared too much about it anyway.

The door opened and his father entered, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well, you're a man now, son. Happy thirteenth birthday," said Arthur almost wistfully as he gave Roy a hug. The major general was all dressed up in his military regalia, and when he broke away, he added, "Everyone's waiting for you downstairs. Better get dressed."

Roy frowned. Sure, it was nice that he was finally thirteen, which meant officially entering apprenticeship under Mr. Hawkeye, but did his mother and sisters really have to throw him a huge party – which always meant getting "dressed for the occasion" as they always put it? But he obliged, and Arthur left to give his youngest offspring a little privacy.

The tuxedo was not overly flamboyant; it was actually a simple thing that was all black except for the bright red bow tie and the white undershirt. But Roy still thought it was unnecessary, and decided against fixing his hair as well. Sure, he combed it a bit, but managed to retain the slightly messy look. It was too much trouble, and besides, it would be all over the place eventually, as the day went on.

He walked down the stairs, feeling like a groom ready to meet his bride – or more aptly, a model sashaying toward his audience, which was comprised of three young ladies waiting for him at the foot of the staircase, even more dressed up than he was.

"There he is, our little man – actually, he's not so little anymore."

"Happy birthday!"

"So, how does it feel to be thirteen?"

"I feel hungry," Roy complained. "And I'm not going to a wedding or anything." He tugged at his bow tie.

Regine giggled. "You can eat during the party; you woke up really late, you know. But we already have some early birds."

"Really?" Their youngest sibling raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

"Happy birthday, Roy Mustang, and today's the day."

The rather scratchy voice was all too familiar. Mr. Hawkeye suddenly appeared beside the girls, grinning from ear to ear. Seeing him smile was somewhat strange; there was something about it that suggested he had a scheme brewing in his head that would involve watching Roy mess up.

"I want to see how you've improved after all these years…and I want to see it now, while this place isn't crowded. Come on, boy, I've got the chalk, but I haven't got all day."

Roy felt as though his feet were moving of their own accord as he went down the last of the steps and followed the alchemist into the living room, where Riza sat on the sofa, perusing yet another family photo album – thankfully, one that had no baby pictures of him, if Roy remembered correctly. She glanced up briefly, but said nothing.

He felt a short stick of chalk being pressed into his hand. "Your father said he doesn't mind having chalk all over the floor; I can imagine, since you probably drew all over it," said Mr. Hawkeye. Pointing to a bag of something at his feet, he added, "I have in this bag one of my wife's family heirlooms. Unfortunately, I broke it some time ago while doing some cleaning – it's a precious Ishbalan vase. Your job is to fix it. Now, draw your array first."

The youngest Mustang nodded, sat on his knees and did as he was told as Riza and his sisters looked on. It didn't take him long, and Mr. Hawkeye's eyes widened when he heard his would-be apprentice say, "Done."

"Be careful," said the alchemist, as he crouched down and upended the bag slowly onto the transmutation circle. Several huge shards of porcelain, followed by many small ones, tumbled onto the lines sketched on the floor. He made sure that all the pieces were within the circle before standing up again.

Roy instantly remembered the broken vase he had "fixed" seven years ago. The warped thing was still perched on their fireplace, looking more like porcelain fire than a vase. But this was no time to be reminiscing about his first attempt at alchemy, so he sat down, placed his hands on his transmutation circle, and closed his eyes as the first rays of light began emanating from the drawing. This was it – the outcome of this transmutation would decide if he was good enough to be Mr. Hawkeye's student or not. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if Riza's father saw no improvement in his work…

It felt like eternity had passed when a hand clamped down on his shoulders. "Open your eyes, boy." Then again, it also felt like only a second.

He did as he was told – and found himself staring at a beautiful vase with two handles and intricate sceneries from Ishbalan culture painted onto it. The vase sat on his array, and everyone – including his parents, who had probably come while his eyes were shut in concentration – stared at it in a circle around the circle. Victoria whispered to Elizabeth, and he realized that Riza was with them now, the album abandoned on the coffee table.

Mr. Hawkeye was the first to break the silence, and his words made Roy's heart sink and vanish completely.

"Hmmm…that vase had only one handle when I accidentally bumped into it."

"I'm sorry!" the boy spluttered, scrambling to his feet and gaping at his work. "I…I didn't know…I thought some of those pieces were another handle…" His onyx eyes darted about, finding his parents, his sisters, Riza Hawkeye…he silently pleaded with all of them to forgive him, to at least consider…

And then Mr. Hawkeye did the very last thing Roy had expected him to do.

He _laughed_.

"What – "

"Can't you take a joke, boy?" he asked in between guffaws. His daughter smiled; she had obviously been in on this as well. "I was only kidding. You restored that vase to its former splendor. Instead of having you _make_ something, I decided to have you _fix_ something. Especially since I remembered that story your father told me when you first told me you wanted to be my apprentice, the one about the first vase you tried to fix. Seven years was more than enough for you to work on that.

"So congratulations. You will start learning under me next week. Be prepared, because it will most definitely be different from studying on your own, and this is my birthday gift to you. You have a lot of potential, Roy Mustang. Don't let it go to waste."

Roy saluted. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you, thank you so much for taking in my son to be your apprentice," Arthur said, shaking hands with Mr. Hawkeye as though it was their first meeting all over again. "He was starting to run out of things to learn on his own…"

The alchemist smirked and pulled his hand away; Arthur Mustang had quite a firm grip, and it seemed to have gotten firmer. "Don't thank me. I wouldn't have offered to teach him if he didn't show any promise."

"Well, Roy is a smart kid," said the major general, beaming. "And I'm proud of him." He ruffled Roy's hair, making it even messier.

"And it goes without saying that I am proud of him too," agreed Olivia. "Nicholas, it's so nice of you to give up some of your time and energy to teach him alchemy – I mean, whatever else he needs to learn."

"I'll be paid anyway," Mr. Hawkeye reminded the couple, winking. Turning to Roy, he said, "Just don't forget to show up on Monday, all right? If you don't, consider your apprenticeship terminated."

"I won't forget, I promise." He looked at Riza, who had been smiling ever since her father had revealed his little joke.

That was her prettiest smile yet.


End file.
